BANCROFT 
LIBRARY 

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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


EDWARD  PLUMMER  ALSBURY 


GUY  RAYMOND 

A  STORY  OF 
THE  TEXAS  REVOLUTION 


BY 

EDWARD  PLUMMER  ALSBURY 


HOUSTON,  TEXAS: 

STATE  PRINTIKG  Co.,  PRINTERS 

1908 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1908,  by 

EDWARD  PLUMMER  ALSBURY, 

in  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress, 

at  Washington,  D.  C. 


i)  "7  10  i 
Ubnuy 


THIS  WORK 

IS  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED 
TO  THE 

DAUGHTERS  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 
OF  TEXAS 


PREFATORY  REMARKS. 


placing   before    (lie    public   a   story   of   the   revolution    wliirb 
ve  to  Tex;is  a  position  among  the  nations  of  the  earth,  the  ;mlhor 
not  i ) roscii  1  o«l   incidents  lliat  necessarily  call  for  particular  nten- 
of  lenders,  bui   Inus  tried  to  delineate  the  characters  of  the  men 
the   rank   and    file,    whose   spirit   of   adventure,   whose  hardihood 
endurance,    made    possible    the    ultimate    independence    of    the 
ublic.     Criticism   is  expected;  for  the  bounds  thrown  around  the 
er-day  novelist  have  been  ruthlessly  disregarded  in  many  particu- 
But  as  no  favors  have  been  asked  at  the  hands  of  publishers, 
story  has  been  launched  upon  the  sea  of  literature  on  its  merits, 
the  hope  that  an  indulgent  reading  public  will  be  more  charitable 
exacting  critics  and  professional  reviewers. 


GUY  RAYMOND 

A  STORT  OF  THE 
TEXAS   REVOLUTION 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  lovely  grove.  Tall,  stately  trees  with  commingling  branches 
'orming  light  and  darker  shadows  on  the  half  sodded,,  half  leafy 
carpet  made  brilliant  by  tiny  patches  formed  by  the  trembling  sun- 
light, that  struggled  through  the  verdant  canopy,  as  the  stirring 
leaves  yielded  to  the  morning  breeze.  A  gentle  slope  stretched  to 
denser  shades  and  formed  the  margin  of  a  running  brook,  whose 
gurgles  mingled  with  the  music  of  the  wood.  The  cliff-like  bank, 
which  marked  its  further  edge,  rose  boldly,  studded  with  pointed 
rock,  with  here  and  there  a  boulder  overhanging  the  limpid  current. 
\  winding  path,  but  dimly  marked,  traced  its  way  to  the  stream 
\\here,  on  Hie  further  edge,  a  miniature  cataract  fell,  with  pattering 
noise,  into  a  basin  cut  by  human  hands  from  the  level  surface  of  the 
limestone  ledge.  From  the  basin,  lashed  to  bubbles  by  the  fall,  the 
parent  water  escaped,  through  artificial  conduits,  to  the  brook, 
fitting  scene  for  artist's  pencil  or  for  poet's  pen  to  add  to  the 
th  of  art  or  legendary  lore.  A  handsome  youth,  reclining  easily 
the  ground,  watched  the  little  waterfall.  There  was  no  mistaking 
the  admiration  which  so  plainly  marked  his  expressive  features  as 
he  gazed  upon  the  pretty  picture.  The  rude  mallet  and  the  chisel, 
ill  white  with  lime  from  the  soft  rock  and  lying  near,  were  the 
-tale  instruments  of  his  recent  work ;  and  he  noted,  in  full  enjoy- 
t,  the  effect  of  the  new  direction  his  hands  had  given  to  the 
me  of  the  cascade,  through  the  bubbling  basin  and  the  converging 
lies  I  hat  poured  a  single  stream  into  the  eddying  waters  at  his 
•••I.  A  bright  smile  lighted  up  his  handsome,  boyish  face  as  he 
ed  from  the  contemplation  to  look  up  the  paihwav,  and  he  said 
il.ly: 
"I'll  bring  mother  down  to  see  it  this  afternoon." 


8  GUY  RAYMOND. 

He  rose  from  the  ground  and  took  from  its  position  a  cocked 
rille  which  I  UK  I  been  leaning  against  a  tree  close  at  hand.  In  stature 
he  looked  lo  he  six  feel  ;  his  age  ahoni,  eighteen,  and  as  he  bent  his 
head  and  lowered  the  hammer  of  the  piece,  light,  wavy  locks  fell 
a  cheek  and  temple  fair  but  rosy  and  brown  from  health  and 
exposure.  KVsliug  his  rifle  on  the  ground  he  looked  inquiringly 
a  round  as  if  in  search  of  some  object  that  was  missing,  then  gave  a 
loud  whistle,  which  brought  a  dog  bounding  from  the  upper  end  of 

flu1  gro\e. 

k'Wha|  have  you  been  hunting,  Eolla?  I've  finished  my  work, 
except  some  extra  touches  which  I  will  put  off  'til  another  day.  Come, 
old  hoy  !  Lei's  see  if  we  can  find  a.  squirrel  to  take  home.  Hie  on,  sir!" 

Eolla  darted  off  in  the  direction  taken  by  the  youth,  fully  com- 
prehending the  command  he  had  received.  His  master  followed, 
taking  the  way  up  stream.  Soon  the  sharp  barking  Of  -the  dog 
indicated  that  ho  bad  discovered  something.  He  was  making  demon- 
strations around  Hie' root  of  a.  gigantic  pecan,  now  gazing  intently 
info  Us  branches,  now  looking  towards  the  approaching  youth  as  if 
in  mule  appeal  for  him  to  hasten  his  steps. 

"You  are  making  a  terrible  fuss,  Eolla!  One  would  imagine  you 
bad  ireed  an  elephant  from  your  noise." 

The  dog  whined  in  answer;  then  bristling  bis  back,  growled  and 
barked  furiously.  The  youth  now  began  to  look  in  earnest  to  find 
out  the  real  cause  of  this  unusual  display  of  Eolla's  anger.  He 
walked  around  (be  1  ree  and  peered  through  the  branches  overhead. 
Suddenly  bo  caught  sight  of  two  glaring  balls,  fully  six  inches  apart, 
that  looked  savagely  down  upon  him  from  a  fork  of  the  tree,  high 
up.  and  concealed  almost  entirely  by  the  foliage  of  a  lateral  limb. 

"You  have  treed  something  bigger  than  a  squirrel,  my  good  Eolla. 
.!u<(  keep  still  until  I  find  out  what  owns  those  shining  yellow  balls." 

The  report  of  the  rifle  rang  through   the  grove,   followed   by 
commotion  among  the  branches  and,  an  instant  later,  the  unmistakable 
form  of  a,  grown  panther  struck  the  ground  with  a  thud. 

A  few  struggles  and  the  beast  was  dead.  Eolla,  frightened  al 
first  by  the  sudden  descent  of  so  formidable  an  antagonist,  resumed 
bis  courage  when  assured  that  his  master's  shot  had  been  effective. 
The  youth,  having  reloaded  the  rifle,  bent  over  his  game  to  examine 
it  or  to  determine  the  precision  of  his  aim. 

"Pretty  good  shot,  Eolla!     Eight  between  the  eyes." 

The  high,   rocky  bank   on    the   further   side   of   the   brook    ]r,\( 
scarcely  echoed  the  rifle  shot  when   the  undergrowth,  which   crowned 
its  summit,  was  parted  and  the  dark,  stolid  face  of  an   Indian  looked 


» 

< 

at 


BUT 

al( 

ho 

Ki 


GUY  EAYMOISTD.  9 

cautiously  down  into  the  grove  and  took  in  the  last  act  of  the  scene 
just  described.  With  a  grunt  of  surprise  he  drew  back  and  was  con- 
cealed from  view. 

"Now,  Eolla,  we  will  leave  this  fellow  here  until  I  can  get  my 
sharp  hunting  knife  to  take  of!  his  hide.  You,  my  boy,  shall  have  a 
choice  piece  of  meat  for  your  dinner. " 

Eolla  seemed  delighted  to  be  thus  addressed,  for  he  cut  un- 
numbered capers  around  the  dead  animal.  His  master  turned  to 
leave,  possibly  with  the  intention  to  fetch  his  knife,  when  a  shot 
from  the  high  bank  again  broke  the  quiet  of  the  wood  and  the 
youth  staggered  and  fell  across  the  body  of  the  panther. 

Poor,  distressed  Eolla,  we  leave  you  to  whine  in  sorrow  over  your 

len  master,  while  we  use  the  privilege  of  an  author  to  take  a 
survey  of  a  house,  about  four  hundred  yards  from  the  waterfall, 
along  the  winding  path  that  led  from  the  grove.  Three  cabin-like 
houses,  connected  by  passageways,  built  of  upright  poles  secured  in 
~ie  ground,  the  intervals  plastered  or  daubed  with  mortar,  and  roofed 
ith  long  reed-like  grass,  called  "tule,"  stood  in  an  opening  bounded 
y  a  mesquite  chaparral  on  the  wesi  mid  south  ;m<l  the  timber  of  i!>o 
Salado  creek  on  the  east.  The  buildings  were  of  the  Mexican  type, 
called  by  the  natives  "jacals,"  mul  were  constructed  from  materials 
abounding  in  the  country,  ;m<l  in  ;i  manner  that  necessitated  the 
smallest  amount  of  labor  in  their  preparation.  The  appearance  of  the 
houses  and  the  general  surroundings,  ihe  new  clearing,  the  absence 
oJ:  fences  and  outhouses,  the  wairon  and  old-style  carriage,  depending 
iron  the  shade  of  an  adjacent:  oak  for  protection,  all  bespoke  the 
newness  of  the  settlement,  and  the-  m<  HIM  tain  of  work  yet  to  be  done 
to  constitute  the  plant  of  a  successful  farm  or  ranch. 

On  the  morning  mentioned  in  the  opening  of  the  chapter,  a  woman 
s;  t  in  one  of  the  rooms  of  the  jacal,  enjja^ed  in  sewing.  At  her  feet,  on 
a  bearskin  rug,  sat  a  girl  about  twelve  yea  is  of  a^e,  her  attention  occu- 
p  ed  by  a  book,  the  leaves  of  which  she  was  slowly  turning.  The  child 
bore  a  marked  resemblance  to  (he  youth  whom  we  found  in  the 
adjacent  grove,  engrossed  in  admiration  of  the  waterfall,  beautified 
by  his  own  arlislie  touches.  The  room  was  rather  comforlahly  fur- 
nished for  a  frontier  abode,  although  there  was  a  lack  of  newness  in 
its  appointments,  that  indicated  quite  a  long  service,  and  an  appear- 
ance lliat  he-poke  MII  origin  less  remote  from  Anglo-Savon  eivili/ai  ion 
than  the  hanks  of  the  Salado.  The  woman,  intent  upon  her  work. 
bore  evident  traces  of  sorrow,  the  calm  expression  of  her  count'enance 
indicating  Ihat  willi  grid',  or  perhaps  disappointment,  had  also  come, 
nation.  The  face,  though  wan,  was  handsome;  the  brown  hair 


10 


Grrz  RAYMOND. 


showing  a  f«'w  threads  of  white,  as  she  bent  low  over  her  work,  now 
iiml  then  casting  a  glance  at  the  little  girl.  A  heavy  sigh  escaped 
lin-  occasionally.  One  of  these  attracted  the  attention  of  the  child, 
who.  looking  up  from  her  book,  asked: 

"Mamma,  what  makes  you  sigh  so?" 

-Did    I   sigh,  Stella?" 

"You  have  sighed  so  often  this  morning." 

"I  suppose  it  is  because  I  am  here.  I  shall  -never  become  co 
tented  in  this  wild  country,  and  cannot  see  what  could  have  possess 
your  father  In  banish  himself  and  us  from  friends  and  acquaintances 
'in  undergo  the  dangers  and  hardships  that  seem  to  beset  us  on  every 
hand." 

"Bui  papa  says  thai,  others  are  coining  and  we,  being  the  first. 
can  choose  the  best  land,  and  after  a  year  or  two  we  will  be  nicely 
fixed/' 

"Of  cour>e  you  will  side  with  your  father/' 

"lint  <iuy  says  so,  too." 

"Your  brother  Guy  is  a  perfect  sage,  I  suppose.  He  should  be 
al  school,  but  he  will  have  no  schooling  now,  after  this  move." 

"Guy  studies,  mamma.  Papa  says  Guy  knew  more  at  fifteen  than 
he  did  at  twenty.  1  see  him  studying  every  night.  He  talks  to  me, 
about  what  he  reads  and  I  learn  lots  of  things  that  way/' 

"What,  1 1  ray,  have  you  learned  lately?" 

k'()h.  plenty!  The  distance  to  the  sun,  and  how  many  satellites 
Jupiter  has.  and  that  Mercury  and  Venus  are  nearer  to  the  sun  than 
the  earth,  and  how  to  find  the  north  star,  and  who  invented  the  first 
telescope  and  " 

"Ih-  has  been  only  instructing  you  in  astronomy,  then." 

%>.\O:  he  told  me  plenty  more,  about  the  air  being  made  up 
oxygen  and  hydrogen,  and  that  oxygen  keeps  us  alive,  and — and — I 
can't  remember  all  he  told  me.  He  is  reading  a  book  that  he  said 
you  would  object  to,  but  papa  told  him  he  could,  as  it  was  about  the 
best  book  in  our  house." 

"If  your  Father  said  that  I  am  certain  it  is  not  the  Bible." 

"No",  it  isn't.    Guy  called  it  the  'Age  of  Eeason/  " 

"Where  is  your  brother?" 

"Don't  you  remember?  He  went  down  to  the  spring  that 
found  coming  out  of  the  high  bank.  He  says  he  is  going  to  in 
it  the  prettiest  thing  in  Texas." 

"Poor  boy ;  I  suppose  he  must  have  some  diversion." 

"He  says  he  has  plenty  to  amuse  him.  IFe  likes  to  go  out  in 
woods  by  himself,  with  just  Kolla  along.  Sometimes  he  goes  without 


GUY  RAYMOND.  1 1 

his  gun,  and  papa  told  him  he  ought  not  to;  hut  he  thinks  there  isn't 
a  hit  of  danger.  He  says  that  you  and  I  must  go  down  to  sec  ihe 
spring  when  he  gets  through  fixing  it.  We  must  go,  mamma,  just' 
to  please  him." 

"There  is  your  father  coming,  and  you  do  not  know  your  lesson." 
"I  almost  know  it,  and  have  yet  until  twelve  to  study." 
Paul  Raymond  had  moved  to  the   Salado,   from   San  Felipe  de 
Austin,  whore  he  had  first  settled  in  the  colony  of  the  Empresario, 
having  sought  an  asylum  from  disappointment,  caused  by  the  dissi- 
pation of  a  large  property  in  Mississippi,  in  the  wilds  of  Texas,  who^o 
territory   was   now   attracting   the   notice   of  the   more   adventurous 
spirits,   in   the  Southern  States,  and  offering  a  field  for  speculation 
to  men  of  ruined   fortunes  and  blasted  hopes.     On  an  exiended  scout, 
a  year  ho  fore,  lie  had  seen  the  spot  on  the  Salado,  where  he  was  now 
)catod,   and    determined    to  move   from   the   malarial  hanks  of  the 
razos  to  the  high   and  healthy  plateaus  of  Bexar.     It  was  a    hold 
>p,  by  a   hold   spirit.     For  in  those  days  it  was  hazardous   for  an 
mericaii  to  live  in  a  place  so  isolated  as  was  his  new  home.     Indian 
utility  and  Mexican  jealousy  wore  alike  to  he  feared;  hut   despile 
10  advice  and  .warning  .from    friends,  and    Austin  himself,   he  made 
movement.     In  the  State  he  had  left,  he  had  been  an  in  fluent  ial 
tizen,  a  lawyer,  and  a  man  of  education.     He  had   represented  the 
mthern  counties  in  the  Senate,  and  the  laws  of  the  State  bore  the 
ipress  of  his  legislative  ability. 

A  wife, 'son  and  daughter  composed  his  family,  and  these,  with 
Irishman,  employed  to  be  jack  of  all  trades,  were  the  only  beings 
the  settlement.  The  children,  Guy  and  Stella,  had  been  taught 
a  private  tutor,  but  since  coming  to  Texas  the  father  and  mother 
id  assumed  the  duties  of  the  teacher.  They  were  far  advanced  for 
jir  ages,  both  having  apt  minds  and  inclinations  to  study..  This 
especially  true  of  Guy  Raymond,  who  was  well  read  and  con- 
it  with  1  Horary  subjects  that  are  familiar  to  few  minds  not 
ssessing  the  advantage  of  maturity.  His  mother  often  called  him 
dreamer,  but  his  father,  whose  skepticism  he  inherited,  pronounced 

already  a  thinker. 

"Where  is  Guy?"  asked  the  father,  as  he  entered  the  house. 
"He  is  off  with  Rolla,  engaged  in  some  project  about  the  new 
'ing  he  said  he  had  found,"  replied  his  wife. 

"He  worked  on  if.  some  yesterday;  but  as  it  was  Sunday,  he  would 
tell  you  of  it.     lie  will  make  a  nice  job  of  it,  I'll  bet.     Guy  does 
vtlihig  well." 
''Working  on  Sunday  is  one  result  of  your  infidelity." 


12  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"Such  employment  is  not  work.    It's  the  purest  amusement  to 
boy.    Know  your  lesson,  Stell'?" 

"Very  nearly,  papa/' 

"That's  a  good  girl.    I  want  you  to  study  well  and  it  will  take  one 
argument  from  your  mother  against  our  move  to  Texas." 

"There  is  a  shot!    Did  Guy  take  his  rifle?" 

"Yes,  papa.    I  saw  him  get  it." 

"He  has  shot  a  squirrel,  I  suppose.    I  heard  Holla's  bark  a  minute 

before/' 

"Did  your  Irishman  come  with  you  ?"  asked  his  wife. 

"No,  he  is  splitting  out  the  boards  for  the  barn.  He  proposed  to 
sf:iy  and  let  me  take  him  his  dinner." 

"There  is  another  shot,  papa,     I  expect  Guy  lias  killed  another 

squirrel." 

"Doubtless,  if  he  aimed  at  one,  for  he  is  a  fine  shot  with  a  rifle/'' 
"He  beat  the  Mexican  shooting,  the  other  day,  and  he  told  brother 
he  had  never  been  beaten  so  badly  before." 

"How  did  Guy  make  out  with  his  Spanish?" 
"Very  well,  although  brother  said  that  the  Mexican's  pronuncia- 
tion was  so  unlike  the  real  Spanish   lie  had   to  gue-s  at  some  of  his 
words." 

"It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at;  these  Mexican  half-breeds  have  a 
dialect  of  their  own." 

"It  is  nearly  noon,"  said  Mrs.  Raymond.  "I  wish  Guy  would 
come  in  so  that  he  will  be  ready  for  dinner.  Stella,  takte  the  small 
bucket  and  get  some  drinking  water.  I  presume  your  brother  will 
be  here  presently." 

Stella  took  the  bucket  and  having  donned  her  bonnet  went  for 

the  water.     Her  destination  was  a  little  spring  under  the  bank  of 

the  creek,  near  at  hand,  to  which  a  path  led  through  the  bushes  oi 

im'M[iiito.     She  tripped  along  with  her  bucket,  casting  side  glances 

toward  the  grove  to  see  if  she  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  brother 

Arriving  at  tho  spring  she  scooped  it  out  with  her  hands,  and  ther 

waited  for  it  to  clear  itself.     This  she  repeated  again  and  again,  b} 

way  of  amusement,  taking  no  account  of  the  flight  of  time.     Finally 

a  strange  shout,  which  seemed  to  come  from  the  plateau  above,  causec 

her  to  realize  how  long  she  had  remained  playing  in  the  spring,  am 

(hat  perhaps  they  were  waiting  for  her  return  with  the  water.     Shi 

Tilled  her  bucket  and  started   to  ascend  the  steep  bank,  when   sli< 

hoard  the  report  of  fire  arms,  followed  by  demoniac  yells  from   ih 

direction  of  the  house.    Her  first  thought  was  "Indians !"    Her  next— 

concealment.     Wifli  a.  In-art  full  of  terror  and  apprehension   for  he 


GUY  EAYMOND.  13 

parents'  safety,  the  child  crept  cautiously  through  the  thicket,  to  the 
left  -of  the  path,  and  setting  down  her  bucket,  stealthily  proceeded 
to  a  position  whence  she  could  view  the  open  ground.  The  scene 
completely  overpowered  her,  and  she  fell  moaning  and  sobbing,  and 
calling  piteously  for  her  father  and  mother. 


CHAPTEE  II. 

ho  had  fallen  across  the  body  of  the  panther,  was  wounded 
in  the  scalp  by  a  shot  from  the  opposite  height.  He  was  just  re- 
gaining consciousness  when  he  heard  the  same  yells  from  the  house, 

ich  had  so  terrified  his  sister.  He  had  not  sufficiently  regained 
senses  to  comprehend  the  full  meaning  of  the  sounds,  but  he 

ggled  to  a  sitting  posture,  when  he  was  caught  from  behind  and 
his  arms  securely  pinioned.  Two  dirt}^-looking  Indians  confronted 
him.  One  of  them  had  secured  his  rifle,  and  both  were  making 
signs  and,  apparently,  talking  about  the  slain  animal.  The  youth 
now  began  to  realize  his  own  danger,  and  that  of  his  family.  He 
remembered  the  shouts  which  greeted  his  ears,  on  the  return  to  con- 
sciousness, and  his  fears  multiplied  when  he  saw  smoke  and  flames 
in  a  direction  which  told  him,  as  plainly  as  language  could  express, 
that  the  Indians  had  done  their  fiendish  work  in  the  home  which  con- 
tained his  all  in  life. 

Oh!  for  freedom  and  his  rifle.  He  would  sell  his  life  dearly  and 
avenge  to  some  extent  the  cruel  work  of  the  savages.  Dread  suspense ! 
His  mother!  His  little  sister!  What  was  their  fate?  Poor  Kolla! 
Even  he  was  gone.  Perhaps  the  poor  dog  had  considered  him  to  be 
dead  and  had  gone  to  mutely  convey  the  news. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  depict  in  words  the  emotions  that  crowded 
the  breast  of  the  prisoner  in  the  space  of  the  few  moments  succeeding 
his  recognition  of  the  character  of  his  captors.  The  latter  now  mo- 
tioned him  to  move  on,  and  before  he  had  time  to  obey,  one  of  them 
seized  his  arm  and  pushed  him  along.  They  took  him  in  the  direction 
of  what  was  once  his  home.  On  passing  the  scene  of  his  morning's 
work  he  cast  a  sad  look  at  the  waterfall  still  pouring  its  ceaseless 
stream  into  the  basin.  How  different  it  sounded  now!  Then,  its 
music  seemed  like  an  harbinger  of  joy — something  to  soothe  him  when 
he  would  seek  the  fairy  spot,  to  muse  and  speculate,  to  commune  with 
nature.  Now,  it  was  the  sad  requiem  of  his  hopes. 

The  grove  once  cleared  the  opening  disclosed  the  smoking  remains 
of  the  house,  while  to  one  side  stood  a  dozen  Indians,  around  a  pile  of 

2-r 


14  GUY  EAYMOND. 

plunder.  If  there  had  been  any  victims,  they  were  not  to  be  seen, 
and  a  hope  succeeded  that  his  people  had  escaped.  Thus  encouraged, 
he  recovered  his  composure,  and  was  now  satisfied  that  Eolla  had 
gone  with  the  family.  The  Indians  had  already  secured  the  horses 
belonging  to  his  father,  and  proceeded  to  pack  them  with  sundry 
articles  from  the  pile.  After  he  had  been  inspected  by  the  whole 
party  he  was  placed  in  the  custody  of  a  tall,  raw-boned  Indian,  who 
ordered  him,  by  signs  and  several  unintelligible  sounds,  to  go  with 
him.  Guy  obeyed,  but  found  it  to  be  difficult  to  keep  up  with  his  guard. 
They  soon  crossed  the  little  brook,  near  where  it  emptied  in  the 
Salado,  and  ascended  the  bank  on  the  further  side  to  the  high  ground 
constituting  the  forks  of  the  two  runs.  About  a  half-mile  further  on 
they  reached  the  camp  of  the  Indians,  which  had  been  left  in  charge 
of  two  warriors  and  two  squaws.  Near  a  small  fire  sat  the  two  latter. 
one  old  and  wrinkled,  the  other  young  and  just  about  grown.  To 
this  point  the  tall  Indian  directed  his  steps  with  his  prisoner.  The 
two  women  arose  from  their  squatting  positions  and  began,  in  their 
gutteral  monotones,  an  evident  discussion  of  the  events  of  the  morn- 
ing. They  devoured  Guy  with  their  eyes,  pulling  at  his  coat  and 
going  through  his  pockets.  The  old  one  appropriated  his  knife  and 
two  small  keys  on  a  ring.  One  of  the  latter  belonged  to  his  trunk,  the 
other  to  the  little  box  in  which  were  kept  those  treasures,  odds  and 
ends,  valuable  to  a  boy,  and  little  mementoes  of  the  happier  days  spent 
in  the  place  of  his  nativity  The  younger  squaw  claimed  his  handker- 
chief, which  she  held  up  before  her  for  inspection,  and  then  amused 
herself  by  picking  at  the  red  embroidered  letters  in  one  corner,  which 
spelled  his  name.  He  thought  of  the  little  hands  which  had  worked 
those  letters — her  first  attempt — and  wondered  where  they  then  were. 
The  response  was  the  scene  of  desolation  across  the  creek — the  smould- 
ering ruin,  the  yelling  savages  and  the  most  agonizing  feature  of 
the  cruel  tragedy — the  cloud  of  uncertainty  that  veiled  the  fate  of 
his  dear  ones.  Dejected,  crushed  by  the  weight  of  his  reflections,  hg 
sank  in  tears  at  the  foot  of  a  tree  under  which  he  had  been  halted, 
and  bowed  his  head  upon  his  knees.  The  wound  in  his  scalp  pained 
him  exceedingly;  the  clotted  blood  had  hardened  in  his  hair  and 
produced  irritation.  His  bowed  head  disclosed  the  cruel  wound  much 
exaggerated  by  the  mass  of  coagulated  blood,  and  the  crimson  stains 
that  marked  his  neck  and  discolored  his  clothing. 

A  hand  upon  his  head  interrupted  his  reflections,  and,  starting 
from  his  painful  reverie,  he  beheld  the  young  squaw  bending  over 
him.  She  had  brought  a  horn  full  of  water  from  the  creek,  and  wet- 
ting the  handkerchief  she  indicated  that  she  desired  to  wash  his 


GUY  KAYMOND.  15 

wound.     He  could  only  submit,  and  the  girl  proceeded  to  wet  his 

head,  while  he  bent  forward  to  allow  her  treatment  without  incurring 

a  wetting.     By  degrees  she  removed  the  traces  of  blood  and,  closing 

the  wound,  tied  the  handkerchief  over  it.     He  made  signs  to  her  to 

loosen  his  bound  arms,  but  she  replied  with  impatient  motions  in 

the  negative.    The  older  woman  and  the  men  had  disappeared  during 

the  time  while  Guy  had  his  head  bowed  upon  his  knees.    He  had  only 

a  squaw  to  contend  with,  but  his  arms  were  securely  tied,  and  the 

squaw  had  weapons  at  hand  and  knew  how  to  use  them.     The  noise 

f  approaching  Indians  indicated  the  coming  of  the  fiends  with  their 

kinder,  and  perhaps  with  the  crudest  of  intentions  towards  their 

risoner. 

Guy's  active  mind  had  already  been  involved  in  speculation  as 
his  fate,  and  it  was  not  without 'apprehension  that  his  ear  caught 
e  sounds.    The  squaw  suddenly  changed  her  position  and  demeanor, 
he  sprang  from  a  seat  and,  resuming  her  rifle,  stood  facing  her 
arge,  as  if  she  were  closely  guarding  him.     Guy  thought  he  read  in 
is  a  fear  lest  her  recent  ministrations  might  be  discovered  by  her 
eople     To  avoid  suspicion  that  she  had  betrayed   the  weakness  of 
mpathy,  she  had  assumed  a  vigilant  attitude.    The  party  filed  into 
mp,  passing  near  their  captive,  one  of  them  rudely  snatching  the 
andkerchief  from  his  head  and  dashing  it  in  his  face.    A  discussion 
h.hen  followed,  apparently  about  something  of  great  importance.     The 
11  Indian  was  especially  demonstrative  in  his  gestures,  and  loud  in 
is  talk,  appearing  to  wholly  dissent  from  the  views  of  the  others. 
Finally  the  council  came  to  an  end.     With  grunts  and  yells  they 
parated  to  seek  their  ponies  which,  securely  hoppled,  were  grazing 
near.     The  animals  were  brought  in,  the  packs  adjusted,  and  the  band 
moved  off  one  after  another,  except  the  two  squaws,  the  tall  Indian 
and  another  of  low  stature,  who  appeared  to  be  a  half-breed,  as  his 
skin  was  brighter,  resembling  the  lower  type  of  Mexicans.     These 
were  also  making  preparations  to  leave.     A  pony  was  produced  for 
the  prisoner;  his  arms  were  unbound  and  he  was  directed  to  mount. 
After  securing  his  feet  with  a  hopple,  passed  under  the  horse,  the 
party  started  off,  the  tall  Indian  taking  the  lead,  the  others  following, 
leading  the  prisoner's  animal,  the  two  stolen  horses  packed  with  the 
booty  bringing  up  the  rear.     The  wild  country  grew  wilder  as  the 
parly  moved  on  their  pathless  way,  along  the  timber  of  the  creek, 
pointing  to  the  distant  hills  whose  blue  summits  piled  up,  tier  upon 
li'-r,  blended  in  one  dark  belt  beneath  the  bright  horizon.    The  young 
prisoner's  arms  were  sore,  his  wound  was  throbbing,  but  the  greatest 
>ain  was  in  his  heart,  which  was  crushed  under  the  weight  of  the 
tainty  hanging  over  the  fate  of  father,  mother  and  sister. 


pain 




16  GUY  EAYMOND. 

The  morning  had  been  so  happily  spent  at  the  waterfall  in  an 
occupation  so  congenial  to  his  nature;  in  the  maturing  of  an  artistic 
conception,  planned  weeks  before  to  give  a  pleasant  surprise  to  his 
family.  There  could  be  no  overruling  Providence  in  the  wreck  of 
so  many  hopes. 

The  Indian  ponies  were  travelers,  and  good  progress  was  made 
by  a  uniform,,  ambling  gait,  which  they  were  not.  allowed  to  break. 
The  timber  of  the  creek  had  long  been  left  to  the  right  and  the  sun 
was  nearly  touching  the  western  hills  when  the  party  entered  the 
outskirts  of  a  dense  cedar  brake,  which  extended  up  a  canon,  formed 
by  the  first  well-determined  hills  of  the  chain  they  had  been  approach- 
ing. The  dry  bed  of  a  run  that  drained  the  canon  and  its  tributaries 
furnished  the  passway  through  the  dense  growth.  The  sure-footed 
ponies,  accustomed  to  the  rough  courses  of  Indian  travel,  made  good 
headway  over  the  rocky,  broken  surface;  but  the  pack  horses  fre- 
quently stumbled  and  had  to  be  urged  forward  At  length  a  small 
canon,  to  the  left,  disclosed  a  miniature  lake  with  rocky  margin  and 
enclosed  by  a  wall  of  cedars.  To  this  the  guide  directed  his  course 
and,  in  a  few  moments,  halted  the  sad  procession  at  its  edge.  The 
savages  at  once  dismounted  and  began  preparations  to  camp.  Guy 
was  released  from  his  pony,  stiff  and  sore  from  his  long  ride  without 
a  saddle,  and  was  forced  to  gather  fuel  under  the  surveillance  of  one 
of  the  Indians.  Before  dark  the  horses  had  been  placed  to  graze  and 
the  packs  disposed  upon  the  ground.  By  the  aid  of  punk  and  steel 
a,  fire  had  been  started,  and  was  crackling  its  flames  through  the  dry 
twigs  and  branches,  lavishly  supplied  from  the  adjacent  thicket.  The 
picture  was  wild  and  interesting.  The  placid  surface  of  the  water 
reflected  the  light  green  of  the  cedars,  whose  pointed  tops  surmounted 
each  other  in  regular  gradations,  as  their  positions  marked  an  increas- 
ing altitude  on  the  side  of  the  gorge.  The  column  of  smoke  rose 
thick  and  blue,  settling  lazily  overhead,  then  floating  slowly  back, 
enveloped  the  treetops  in  long,  thin  stretches,  then  assumed  fantastic 
shapes  as  it  cleared  the  foliage.  Below,  along  the  narrow  space, 
where  the  water  encroached  upon  the  timber,  on  either  side,  grew  a 
species  of  rank  mountain  grass,  and  here  the  Indians  disposed  them- 
selves to  the  abandon  of  the  camp.  Rations  of  jerked  beef  had 
supplied  the  necessities  of  the  evening  meal,  to  which  the  prisoner 
had  been  invited,  but  of  which  he  had  no  inclination  to  partake. 
Fortunately  for  him,  he  was  allowed  to  possess  himself  of  a  blanket, 
one  stolen  from  his  own  home,  and  upon  this  he  stretched  his  tired 
limbs.  Darkness  had  settled  over  the  hills  a  long  time  before  he  was 
wooed  by  the  wiles  of  slumber.  His  rest  was  fitful  and  he  relapsed 


GUY  EAYMOND.  17 

into  a  dreamy  stupor,  while  contemplating  the  grim  form  of  the 
tall  Indian  as  he  squatted  by  the  fire,  with  perfect  immobility  of 
features,  except  when  casting  a  glance,  from  time  to  time,  to  become 
reassured  of  his  prisoner's  presence.  It  was  nearly  daylight  when  he 
awoke,  and  his  first  realization  was  the  contact  of  a  warm  body  with 
his  back  and  shoulders.  Feeling  of  the  object  he  discovered  it  to  be 
a  dog,  and  the  low,  familiar  whine,  responsive  to  his  touch,  proved 
it  to  be  Eolla.  Guy's  satisfaction  was  intense.  He  hugged  and 
caressed  the  faithful  dog,  while  his  heart  was  full  of  emotions  He 
whispered : 

i"Dear  Eolla!     Oh  Eolla!     Where  is-  father  and  mother  and  little 
ster?     Oh!     If  you  could  only  talk.     You  must  have  been  with 
them  since  you  left  me  in  the  grove.    How  can  I  be  glad  to  see  you, 
dear  old  dosr,  since  your  coming  causes  me  to  doubt,  still  more,  their 
safety  ?w 

The  dog  nestled  closer  to  his  master  and  expressed,  in  his  mute 
•ay,  his  unfeigned  sympathy. 

The  captive  boy  no  longer  felt  that  complete  desertion  he  experi- 
iced  the  evening  before.     One  sympathetic  heart  in  the  camp  beat 
>r  him,  and  although  it  pulsated  in  the  body  of  a  dog,  it  possessed 
merit  of  fidelity. 

The  bright  July  sun  had  mounted  well  up   above  the  hilltops 
before  the  Indians  bestirred  themselves  and,  from  their  slow  move- 
lents,  it  was  apparent  that  no  speedy  departure  from  their  camp 
is  contemplated.     The  appearance  of  Eolla  excited  their  surprise, 
id  they  had  much  to  say  in  their  unintelligible  talk  concerning 
new   arrival.     Their   close   inspection   of  Eolla   elicited   a   deep 
)wl  and  a  movement  to  a  position  still  nearer  his  master  who, 
iring  that  such  defiance  might  lead  to  his  cruel  usage,  commanded 
to  be  silent.     No  violence,  however,  was  offered  to  the  faithful 
cute,  and  Guy  experienced  a  feeling  of  relief  as  he  saw  the  larger 
ivage  disappear  down  the  canon,  followed  by  the  two  squaws.     The 
lort  Indian  remained  on  guard  and  Guy  was  wishing  that  he  could 
)eak  their  language  in  order  that  he  might  sound  the  fellow,  to  learn 
is  probable  fate.     While  still  in  this  train  of  thought  he  was  much 
irprised  at  being  accosted  by  the  Indian  in  rather  imperfect  Mexican. 
"Hablas  Mejicana?"  he  inquired. 

"Yes,  I  speak  it  pretty  well/'  Guy  replied  in  the  same  language, 
the  same  time   eagerly   assuming   a   sitting,   from   a   recumbent, 
'ition. 

"What  your  name?" 
"Guy,"  was  the  ready  answer. 


18  GUY  KAYMOND. 

"My  name  Pedro." 

"Pedro  is  a  Mexican  name." 

"Me  Mexican — not  Indian." 

"What  are  you  doing  with  the  Indians  then?" 

"Me  so  big  when  Indian  kill  my  people.  Me  same  as  Indian*,  but 
my  people  Mexican." 

This  to  Guy  was  encouraging  information.    Might  not  this  fello^ 
have  yet  a  little  of  the  milk  of  human  kindness  left,  despite  his  long 
absence  from  civilization  ?    Then  he  remembered  that  Mexican  treach- 
ery was  but  one  degree  removed  from  savage  barbarity,  and  the  new- 
born hope  fell  under  the  reflection. 

"Pedro,  do  you  kill  people  for  nothing,  just  like  the  Indians  ?" 

"Indian  make  me  kill  plenty.     Me  same  as  Indian." 

"Do  the  others  speak  any  Mexican?" 

"Muy  poco,  few  words/' 

"Will  these  people  kill  me?" 

"Maybe  so,  if  you  not  be  Indian,  like  me." 

"Pedro,  will  you  be  my  friend  and  tell  me  what  to  do?" 

"Me  be  friend,  if  you  be  Indian.  You  no  want  be  killed  and  if 
Indian  want,  he  kill  you.  He  not  kill  you  when  you  be  same  as 
Indian.  All  Indian  want  kill  you,  but  Walumpta  say  no.  He  say, 
maybe  so,  you  be  same  as  Indian.  He  say  you  pretty  and  shoot  gun 
well.  Walumpta  shoot  you  in  head." 

"Who  is  Walumpta?" 

"Walumpta  chief." 

"Is  he  the  Indian  who  has  just  left  here  with  the  squaws?" 

"Yes,  he  Walumpta.    He  gone  to  make  smoke  on  the  mountain. 

"He  shot  me,  then  saved  my  life,"  mused  Guy. 

"What  tribe  do  you  belong  to,  Pedro?" 

'"Lipan — all  Lipans." 

"And  where  are  those  who  left  the  camp  yesterday  before  we  did?: 

"Gone;  steal  horse  on  El  Cibolo.  Walumpta  gone  to  big  mountain. 
He  make  smoke  so  other  Indian  come  here,  when  they  steal  plenty 
horse.  Squaws  go  find  plums.  Plenty  plums  in  big  canon." 

Guy  looked  in  the  direction  of  the  mountain  and  recognized 
as  one  he  had  often  seen  from  the  new  home  on  the  Salado.     It  w 
the  highest  point  for  mile?  around  and  he  had  been  told  that  it  w 
called  "Indian  Lookout." 

"Well,  Pedro,  if  I  turn  Indian,  will  you  be  my  friend   and 
that  my  good  dog  j^  Well  treated  ?" 

"Pedro  be  your  friend ;  all  Indian  and  squaw  be  friend  too." 

Guv  would  have  asked  him  concerning  the  fate  of  his  family,  and 


GUY  EAYMOND.  19 

the  question  rose  to  his  lips.,  but  it  .merely  trembled  there  for  a 
moment,  while  the  great  lump  in  his  throat  choked  down  all  possibility 
of  its  utterance.  The  tears  fell  from  his  eyes  and  dropped  upon  the 
upturned  face  of  .Holla,  who  looked,  as  if  in  wonder,  at  his  master's 
familiar  talk  with  the  barbarian.  Guy  began  to  discern  the  bare 
possibility  of  escape  in  the  assumption  of  a  new  nationality,  and 
resolved  to  feign  an  earnestness  of  purpose  to  that  end  that  would 
deceive  even  the  cunning  of  an  Indian.  He  reclined  again  on  his 
blanket,  while  he  gave  his  new  intention  his  profoundest  thought. 

While  thus  engaged  he  suddenly  saw  a  smoke  rise  from  the  top 
of  Indian  Lookout,  and  called  Pedro's  attention  to  it. 
"Walumpta  up  there,"  said  Pedro. 

"And  here  comes  the  squaws/'  said  Guy,  as  the  objects  of  his 
rniark  came  in  sight  down  the  canon.     Then,  as  if  he  thought  it 
st  to   make  the  announcement  before  "the  return  of   any   of  the 
ibsentees  of  the  party,  he  said  to  his  guard : 
"Pedro,  I  want  to  be  an  Indian." 

The  words  cost  him  an  effort,  but  he  had  made  a  resolution. 
Pedro   manifested   some,  satisfaction   at   the   announcement,   and 
rave   Guy  to  understand  that  when  Walumpta  returned  he  would 
lake  known  his  deter  mi  nation,  but  that  some  test  would  be  required 
prove  his  sincerity  of  purpose. 
"Chicha  be  glad,"  he  added. 
"Who  is  Chicha?" 

"Chicha  my  squaw;  look,  she  come." 

The  two  squaws  now  approached,  each  carrying  the  plums  they 
iad  been  gathering.  Pedro  communicated  with  them,  at  which  the 
mnger  one  seemed  to  become  interested,  while  the  elder  remained 
ilent,  merely  casting  an  indifferent  look  in  the  direction  of  the 
msonef. 

The  former,  to  still  further  prove  her  satisfaction,  suddenly 
>ssed  over  to  Guy  and  stooping  down  opened  the  cloth  containing 
ler  plums,  and  motioned  to  him  to  help  himself  from  its  contents, 
[nstead  of  complying  he  fell  back  as  if  he  had  received  an  electric 
lock,  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  Eolla,  not  compre- 
lending,  bristled  his  back  and  growled  in  anger.  Poor  Guy!  The 
loth  which  held  the  plums  was  an  apron,  worn  by  his  mother  the 
lay  before. 


20  GUY  RAYMOND. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Summer  had  ripened  into  Autumn.  On  the  hills  and  in 
valleys,  chaparral  and  forest  had  put  off  the  green  and  assumed 
their  gaudy  foliage.  Winter  had  come  again  and  melted  into  Spring. 
The  birds  sang  as  sweetly  and  the  flowers  bloomed  as  profusely  as 
in  preceding  seasons.  The  mellow  sunlight  cast  pleasant  shades 
and  picturesque  shadows.  Cooling  waters  laved  the  bold  banks  of 
rivers  and  the  mossy  margins  of  rivulets.  Nature — transcendantly 
beautiful — smiled  through  every  feature  of  her  creation.  The  little 
fall,  on  the  Salado,  still  poured  its  crystal  water  into  the  bubbling 
basin  to  find  its  way,  in  ceaseless  current,  to  the  stream  below.  The 
grove,  still  beautiful  in  its  garb  of  verdure,  still  stately  in  its  giant 
trunks,  still  resounding ,  with  the  music  of  the  woods,  had  not, 
perhaps,  been  trodden  by  human  feet  since  the  day  when  the  young 
dreamer  had  rested  in  admiration  of  his  work — planning  future  hours 
of  happiness  beneath  its  umbrage;  for  was  not  there  the  rude  mallet, 
and  there  the  rusty  chisel,  with  blade  just  visible  from  out  the 
matted  leaves?  The  winding  path,  scarce  worn  to  plainness  by  the 
unfortunate  settlers,  was  now  hidden  by  the  fallen  foliage.  Here 
and  there  a  bleaching  bone,  and  further  on  a  grinning  skull,  bespoke 
the  feast  of  the  wolves  as  they  scattered  the  severed  remains  of  the 
dead  panther  in  their  fight  over  the  prey.  Out  in  the  bright  sunshine 
— in  the  opening  where  stood  the  home — the  grass  was  struggling 
from  out  of  the  cinders,  now  only  discernable  by  the  black  remains 
of  charred  substances  lying  loosely  above  the  weatherbeaten  mass. 

Is  there  nothing  further  to  indicate  the  tragedy  of  the  year  before  ? 

Let  us  approach  the  old  oak,  whose  shadow  once  fell  across  the 
doorway  of  the  apartment  where  Stella  and  her  mother  sat 'on  that 
fatal  day.  Yes,  those  two  mounds  speak  eloquently,  and  we,  who 
know  of  the  sad  occurrence,  would  be  at  no  loss  to  guess  who  lay 
beneath,  even  if  those  rough  stakes  did  not  bear  the  initials  of  t'he 
dead.  Down  there,  leading  to  the  little  spring,  is  still  the  path 
along  which  Stella  tripped  for  water,  while  she  looked  in  vain  for 
the  appearance  of  her  brother,  who  lay,  all  unconscious,  across  the 
carcass  of  his  victim.  Perchance  we  could  find  the  cup  and  bucket 
which  the  frightened  child  had  abandoned,  ere  she  surveyed 
opening  filled  with  howling  savages. 

But  why  linger  in  this  devoted  spot,  and  court  the  melancholy 
which  its  reminiscences  engender?  Other  scenes  demand  our  atten- 
tion, through  which  we  will  follow  the  fortunes  of  Guy  Raymond, 
f.nf]  leave  to  the  future  to  unravel  the  fate  of  his  sister. 


:Kt;i 

7 

Olv 


wan 

I 


GUY  RAYMOND.  21 

Picture  a  range  of  hills,  shaggy  with  alternate  growth  and  crag, 
timbered  or  bald  as  the  chances  of  flood  or  eruption  had  denuded 
of  soil  the  rising  steppes,  or  left  it  to  support  the  stunted  thicket 
in  its  precarious  tenure  above  the  mass  of  limestone.  Extending 
west  by  south  for  an  hundred  and  fifty  miles  or  more,  this  range 
was  flanked  by  pretentious  spurs  thrown  off  diagonally  to  the  north- 
east with  intervals  of  miles  of  level  or  undulating  surface  of  open 
country,  through  which  coursed,  ever  and  anon,  a  stream  or  run. 
seeking  its  way  to  the  Colorado  or  to  reinforce  one  of  that  river's 
tributaries.  These  runs  were  fringed  with  the  inevitable  lines  of 
timber,  giving  variety  to  the  prospect  and  shelter  to  the  timid  herds, 
descending  from  the  hills  to  graze,  or  slack  their  thirst  at  some 
favorite  waterhole.  Through  these  wild  valleys  roamed  the  buffalo, 
the  mustang,  the  deer  and  the  antelope,  hunted  by  the  Indians,  not 
wantonly,  but  to  satisfy  the  necessities  for  food  and;  raiment. 

It  was  to  one  of  the  most  southern  of  these  spurs  that  Walumpta 
guided  the  party  which  held  Guy  a  prisoner;  it  was  here  we 
left  them  encamped  while  the  signal  smoke  was  rising  from  Indian 

>kout  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  raiding  band. 

The  two  parties  having  formed  a  junction  on  the  afternoon  of 
at  day,  they  took  the  trail  leading  east  by  north,  along  the  range, 
to  the  headquarters  of  their  tribe  "on  the  distant  San  Saba.  Across 
the  projecting  spurs  and  through  intervening  lowlands  the  party 
pursued  its  course  without  incident  save  an  occasional  dash  after  a 
herd  of  buffalo,  the  shooting  of  a  deer,  or  the  stampede  of  a  drove 
of  mustangs.  Despite  his  load  of  sorrow,  the  bold  riding  of  the 
Indians,  the  excitement  of  the  chase,  the  grand,  wild  scenery  and 
the  novelty  of  the  situation  in  which,  by  a  most  sudden  transition, 
he  found  himself,  so  engrossed  the  mind  of  the  prisoner  as  to  detract 
much  from  his  mental  depression. 

#  *  #  # 

It  was  one  of  those  days  when  the  temperature  attains  that 
equipoise,  between  the  extremes,  winch  is  to  be  found  in  the  altitudes 
of  the  highlands,  and  which  makes  this  world  seem  a  paradise  by 
reason  of  the  invigorating  effect  of  the  atmosphere  when  inhaled  by 
healthy  lungs  and  expanding  chest.  From  the  top  of  the  ridge,  con- 
st'tnting  the  northern  extremity  of  the  range,  hitherto  described, 
could  be  seen  the  timber  of  the  Colorado  joining  that  of  the  Red 
Fork.  To  the  west  was  a  small  chain  of  hills  extending  so  far  north 
as  to  touch  the  picturesque  groves  of  Lipan  and  Kickapoo  springs, 
while  to  the  southwest  a  vast  plane  stretched  away  in  the  direction 


22  GUY  EAYMOND. 


of  Devil's  River  and  the  Pecos.  Below,  nestled  in  a  mountain  valley, 
through  which  coursed  the  San  Saba,  was  an  Indian  village,  built 
upon  the  pricipitous  banks  of  that  stream.  To  the  casual  observer 
it  would  have  been  difficult  to  locate  any  approach  from  the  outer 
world  to  this  nest  of  the  Indians,  so  completely  was  it  hedged  in  by 
its  abrupt  and  rugged  surroundings.  Few  individuals  could  be  seen 
about  the  village,  other  than  an  occasional  passer  from  one  lodge  to 
another,  or  a  group  of  youngsters  practicing  with  bow  and  arrow  at 
a  target  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river.  A  peep  into  the  gorge- 
like  bed  of  the  latter  would  have  disclosed  several  of  the  Indian  women 
engaged  in  washing — pounding  with  sticks  articles  of  clothing  lying 
on  the  smooth  flags  that  abounded  in  the  bed  proper.  At  the  upper 
end  of  the  valley  a  herd  of  ponies  was  slowly  moving  towards  the  foot  of 
the  hills,  the  animals  cropping  grass  as  they  went.  Over  the  hills  to  the 
east  was  a  narrow  trail  pursuing  a  devious  course  towards  the  settle- 
ment. It  was  little  better  than  a  cattle  track,  for  the  lazy  bucks  of 
the  tribe  were  too  indolent  to  fell  a  tree,  clear  a  thicket  or  remove 
a  stone  to  secure  the  conveniences  of  a  direct  path.  Along  this  trail 
two  horsemen  were  approaching  the  valley  and  both  were,  apparently, 
Indians.  The  one  in  the  rear  bore  behind  him  the  carcass  of  a  deer, 
from  which  the  warm  blood  still  dripped,  and  which  seemed  to 
demand  his  attention,  between  the  snatches  of  a  nasal  monotone  that 
might  have  been  intended  for  an  air,  to  keep  it  from  slipping  to  one 
side  or  the  other.  The  first  horseman,  upon  a  closer  scrutiny,  would 
have  disclosed  features  decidedly  non-Indian  and  his  complexion, 
though  exceedingly  browned,  looked  most  suspiciously  Saxon.  He 
wns  dressed  in  Indian  costume  even  to  moccasins.  A  jaunty  cap, 
made  of  some  pretty  fur,  protected  his  head.  Unlike  his  companion, 
he  rode  upon  a  handsome  Mexican  saddle.  The  two  had  reached 
nearly  the  highest  point  in  the  hills  when  he  who  carried  the  deer 
exclaimed,  in  Mexican : 

"Caramba!" 

"What  is  the  matter,  Pedro?"  asked  the  other  in  the  same 
language. 

"Can't  you  see  ?    Deer  fall  off  again." 

"I'll  help  you  put  it  up  again." 

"Next  time  you  kill  deer,  you  pack  him.     You  'fraid  dirty  y 
fine  saddle." 

"Come!  Pedro,  cease  your  growling.  You  know  you  offered  to 
pack  it,  and  now  you  are  complaining.  It  is  just  like  you  Indians. 
When  I  used  to  play  with  little  white  children,  we  called  the  one 
'Indian  giver'  who  would  give  a  thing  and  be  sorry  for  it  afterwards." 


... 


GUY*  RAYMOND.  23 

"Pedro  is  no  Indian,  but  Indian  steal  me  and  make  me  Lipan. 
Chicha  my  squaw  now  and  Pedro  always  be  Indian." 

"If  you  made  one  change  to  Indian,  you  certainly  can  make 
another  back  to  Mexican." 

"Peuede  ser — but  Pedro  Afraid  to  try.  Lipan  and  Mexican  fight 
so  much — fight  all  the  time." 

"The  more  reason  you  should  side  with  your  people.  You  were 
as  savage  as  the  rest  the  last  fight  we  had  with  the  Mexicans." 

"Es  verdad — but  you,  you  killed  six — more  than  Indian  kill.  You 
get  fine  saddle  and  fine  name ;  Indian  call  you  'el  bravo/  ". 

"True,  too,  but  I  had  to  prove  my  Indianship,  and  besides  I 
wanted  a  good  saddle.  More  than  that  I  was  not  fighting  my  own 
people^  but  a  merciless  race  who  never  spare  an  American  prisoner." 

"Then,  Senor  Bravo,  Mexican  is  worse  than  Indian  and  Pedro 
jtter  stay  with  Chicha." 

"Take  her  with  you." 

"Will  Laoni  go  with  you?" 

"Talk  not  of  her,  Pedro.     She  is  not  my  squaw,  and  can  never  be. 

le.  I  owe  her  my  life;  yet 

"Walumpta  say  Laoni  must  be  squaw  for  El  Bravo,  and  Laoni 
has  eyes  only 'for  you." 

"She  will  forget  me.  She  only  feels  an  interest  in  me  from  the 
fact  that  she  kept  me  from  being  burnt  alive." 

"If  ten  squaw  keep  Pedro  from  burning,  Pedro  take  all  ten. 
Pedro  no  like  fire." 

"If  that  were  the  penalty,  in  my  case,  for  living,  I'd  take  fire, 
first,  last  and  all  the  time,"  thought  Guy. 

"Come,  Senor  Bravo,  this  squaw  talk  make  us  forget  about  deer." 

"Ta'ke  hold  then;  now,  up  with  it.     I  think  it  will  stay  this  time." 

The  deer  secured,  the  horsemen  commenced  the  descent  into  tho 
valley.  Pedro  took  up  his  monotonous  refrain,  while  his  campnnion 
rode  in  silence.  Peaching  the  edge  of  the  village,  they  turned  to  the 
right  and  directed  their  way  to  the  upper  portion,  where,  in  the  door 
of  a  lodge,  stood  the  slight  figure  of  an  Indian  girl.  She  was  fon- 
dling a  dog,  who  would  stand  on  his  hind  legs  and  place  his  paws 
on  her  shoulders,  while  his  head  was  being  stroked.  At  sight  of  the 
horsemen  the  dog  ran  quickly  to  meet  them  and  almost  leaped  to 
the  saddle  of  the  first,  in  his  demonstrations  of  delight. 

"Ah,  ha,  Mr.  Eolla !  I  stole  a  march  on  you  this  morning.  Where 
were  you  straying,  sir?" 

"What  is  El  Bravo  saying  to  the  dog?"  asked  the  girl,  in  the 
Lipan  dialect. 


24  GUY  KAYMOND. 

"Laoni  is  not  jealous  of  the  dog,"  said  Guy. 

"Not  jealous,  but  Laoni  does  not  like  the  words." 

"They  are  the  words  of  my  mother-tongue." 

"You  speak  the  Lipan — why  speak  any  other  ?" 

"I  spoke  them  to  Eolla ;  they  are  the  words  I  spoke  to  him,  like  to 
a  friend,  before  I  ever  saw  Laoni." 

"You  have  known  him  longer  and  like  him  better." 

"Have  you  nothing  better  to  be  jealous  of  than  a  dog?  Laoni 
knows  that  since  the  clay  she  saved  me  from  the  fire  I  would  risk 
my  life  for  her.  Because  of  her  I  slew  the  enemies  of  her  people 
and  earned  the  name  of  Bravo.  Her  good  act  saved  these  strong  arms 
for  service,  and  I  have  used  them  to  repay  the  debt  I  owe  her.  If  a 
buffalo  falls  or  a  deer  drops  at  the  sound  of  my  rifle,  straightway  it 
is  hers.  Here,  Pedro,  undo  the  buck.  See,  Laoni,  here  is  my  offering 
of  today.  It  is  another  grain  of  sand  to  make  up  the  mountain  I 
owe  you." 

"Laoni  wants  not  a  deer,  nor  a  buffalo,  nor  a  prairie  full  of  them, 
as  pay  for  what  came  from  her  heart.  Your  living  body  is  her  reward, 
and  she  asks  no  more  than  to  see  her  Bravo  happy  in  the  strength 
of  his  manhood,  and  to  receive  his  kind  words." 

"Walumpta  has  treated  me  like  a  son,  and  Laoni  is  my  sister." 

"If  Walumpta  make  you  his  son,  it  was  for  Laoni's  sake.  Laoni's 
love  is  not  the  love  of  a  sister.  A  sister's  love  can  fail,  but  Laoni's, 
never!" 

"Pedro  has  hung  the  buck  to  the  tree  without  help,"  said  Guy, 
impatiently. 

"And  will  skin  it  without  help,  if  you  and  Laoni  stand  there 
jowering  and  making  long  faces,"  said  Pedro,  using  the  language  of 
his  adoption  more  fluently  than  the  Mexican. 

"Call  Chicha,  or  the  Muja,  to  help.  It  is  enough  to  kill  a  deer, 
without  having  to  skin  it." 

"I'll  call  both  and  make  them  finish  it,  for  it  is  more  work  to 
pack  one  deer  a  mile  than  to  kill  many." 

Laoni  retired  into  the  lodge,  while  Guy  walked  away  in  a  moody 
state  of  mind.  The  latter's  domicile  was  unlike  any  other  in  the 
village.  With  Pedro's  help,  he  had  constructed  it  more  on  the  plan 
of  a  Mexican  jacal,  except  the  roof,  which,  in  lieu  of  tule,  was 
covered  with  buffalo  skins  tightly  stretched  and  well  secured.  The 
Indians  had  fully  intended  to  sacrifice  their  young  prisoner,  on  their 
arrival  at  the  San  Saba.  His  acquaintance  with  the  Spanish  language, 
as  it  happened,  was  the  remote  cause  of  his  preservation  from  a 
painful  death.  It  interested  Pedro,  who  yet  had  a  tender  place  in 


GUY  EAYMOND.  25 

• 

his  heart  for  the  old  tongue,  and  through  him  the  chief  became 
prepared  to  yield  to  the  pressure  of  potent  influences.  Walumpta 
was  the  chief  of  one  faction  of  his  tribe,  which  was  divided  on  some 
questions,  reaching,  however,  merely  local  considerations,  as  in  all 
extra  tribal  policy  and  diplomacy  the  Lipans  were  united.  The  chief 
had  saved  the  prisoner's  life  when  captured,  but  promised  "to  deliver 
him  up  to  the  torch  on  their  return  to  the  village.  While  half 
regretting  his  promise,  Walumpta  did  not  like  to  disappoint  his  fol- 
lowers, but  deferred  the  execution,  from  time  to  time,  until  weeks 
had  passed.  Pedro  had  made  good  use  of  this  time  by  contriving 
to  throw  the  young  white  man  frequently  into  the  company  of  the 
prepossessing  daughter  of  the  chief.  The  latter  became  interested 
in  the  story  of  the  prisoner,  in  his  desire  to  be  adopted  by  the  tribe, 
and  in  Pedro's  praises  of  his  prowess  and  marksmanship,  which  he 
held  up  to  his  attentive  auditor  as  fitting  accomplishments  of  one 
who  was  the  impersonation  of  manly  grace  and  beauty.  Laoni's  desire 
to  listen  generated  into  a  wish  to  visit  and  speak  with  the  unfortunate. 
The  Indian  girl  had  a  woman's  heart,  which  either  prompted  her  to 
a  noble  resolve  or  caused  her  to  succumb  to  the  attractions  of  the  ideal 
created  by  Pedro's  recitals. 

Pedro  had  posted  Guy  as  to  the  murderous  intentions  of  the 
Indians,  and  outlined  his  policy  to  defeat  their  purpose.  The  terrible 
extremity  in  which  he  found  himself  must  be  an  extenuating  circum- 
stance, if  Guy  Eaymond  encouraged  the  rising  interest  which  Laoni 
manifested,  by  repeating  to  her  in  their  interviews  certain  telling 
sentences  in  the  dialect  learned  from  Pedro. 

Finally,  by  the  advice  of  Laoni,  Guy  sent  a  formal  request  to 
the  chief  that  he  be  permitted  to  become  a  member  of  the  tribe, 
promising,  if  his  request  were  granted,  to  faithfully  defend  the  people 
of  his  adoption  against  all  enemies  and  to  conform  with  the  rules  and 
customs  established  by  and  common  to  the  Lipans.  Laoni  lent  her 
influence  to  the  petition,  and  Walumpta  called  a  council  of  the 
Indians  to  consider  the  matter.  The  meeting  was  a  stormy  one,  for 
the  burning  of  the  white  man  was  to  be  a  jollification  extraordinary, 
and  the  majority  were  opposed  to  entertaining  the  petition. 

At  this  juncture  the  daughter  of  the  chief,  roused  to  the  extreme 
of  interest,  entered  the  circle  of  the  squatting  warriors  and  held  out 
her  hand  for  silence.  Her  mien  was  majestic;  her  manner  pregnant 
with  simple  enthusiasm.  The  wondering  council,  made  mute  by^the 
movement,  interchanged  expressive  grunts  and  then  silently  awaited 
her  speech.  With  heaving  chest,  expanding  nostril  and  eyes  dilated, 
slio  thus  addressed  them: 


26  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"My  fathers:  Laoni  is  tne  daughter  of  the  tribe;  the  good  of 
her  people  has  been  to  her  as  dear  as  her  own  life.  She  would  give 
her  life  for  her  people.  It  is  said  the  white  men  were  coming  to 
take  the  country  of  the  Lipans.  You  know,  my  fathers,  that  our 
land  had  been  seized  by  the  Mexicans  who  came  from  beyond  the  long 
river,  before  the  coming  of  the  white  man.  Our  warriors  who  have 
been  to  the  lower  country  tell  us  the  Mexicans  are  fighting  the  white 
men.  Shall  we  help  our  enemies  ?  Every  white  scalp  you  take,  every 
drop  of  white  blood  you  spill,  is  good  work  for  our  enemies.  Our 
fathers,  long  ago,  had  their  hunting  grounds  from  the  Colorado  to 
the  great  water,  when  the  strangers  came  from  beyond  the  long 
river  and  made  their  homes  on  the  San  Antonio.  They  told  our 
people  of  a  Great  Spirit  who  was  a  friend  to  the  Mexican  and  who 
would  be  a  friend  to  the  Indian.  The  Indians  who  listened  and 
went  to  worship  their  Great  Spirit  were  made  the  slaves  of  the  black 
gowns.  From  sun  to  sun  the  Indian  bent  under  the  heavy  stones  to 
build  houses  for  their  Great  Spirit.  To  pay  us  they  have  robbed  us 
of  our  hunting  grounds.  The  prisoner  that  you  would  burn  has 
never  fought  the  Indians,  and  his  people  are  the  enemies  of  the 
Mexican.  Shall  it  be  said  that  the  Lipan  is  worse  than  the  Mexican  ? 
The  young  white  man  is  brave ;  the  Mexican  is  a  coward.  The  pris- 
oner is  wise,  for  he  already  speaks  the  words  of  the  Lipan ;  he  is  good, 
for  after  all  the  harm  you  have  done  him  he  asks  to  be  one  of  our 
tribe.  My  fathers,  Laoni  asks  for  his  life.  She  asks  you  to  make 
him  a  brother ;  and  when  the  moon  will  throw  the  long  shadows  from 
the  mountain,  let  him  fight  with  our  warriors.  The  daughter  of  the 
tribe,  the  child  of  Walumpta,  will  answer  for  his  bravery." 

Laoni's  words  produced  the  desired  effect,  and  Guy  was  saved. 
A  few  of  the  warriors  shook  their  heads  depreciatingly  and  some  o:. 
the  squaws  howled  in  their  disappointment. 

The  test  was  made  on  the -first  foray,  when  the  Lipans,  accom- 
panied by  Guy,  attacked  a  train  of  Mexican  carts  under  escort.  His 
fearless  conduct  and  exquisite  marksmanship,  in  the  fight,  gained 
him  the  sobriquet  of  "El  Bravo/'  and  confirmed  him  in  the  confidence 
of  his  dusky  comrades.  It  was  a  severe  ordeal,  but  he  was  young, 
and  his  ambition,  with  a  conscious  capability,  made  him  impatient 
to  penetrate  the  future  as  it  advanced  to  meet  him  on  the  rapid 
wheels  of  time.  Among  his  troubles  there  arose  a  crowning  perplex- 
ity. He  was  beloved  by  the  young  Laoni  who,  in  the  simplicity  of 
her  nature,  did  not  hesitate  to  make  it  known  to  him,  or  to  keep 
him  in  remembrance  of  it.  He  discovered  that  in  her  attributes, 
which  raised  her  far  above  the  level  of  the  Indians,  and  he  en- 


GUY  RAYMOND.  27 

deavored,  as  he  progressed  in  the  mastery  of  her  dialect,  to  instill  in 
her  mind  the  ideas  and  obligations  of  civilization. 

How  could  she  help  loving  him?  The  knowledge  of  her  attach- 
ment was  a  solace  in  his  banishment,  but  he  feared  that  when  it 
would  reach  its  full  fruition  it  must  eventuate  in  her  disappointment, 
if  not  in  more  serious  consequences.  While  consorting  together  fre- 
quently he  was  cautious  to  not  evoke  allusion  to  her  love,  and  so 
shaped  his  words  and  planned  his  acts,  as  to  fill,  to  the  full,  the 
measure  of  her  happiness,  by  his  companionship,  without  raising  the 
reflection  as  to  what  it  might  all  be  tending. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  little  distance,  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  above  the  Lipan 
village,  the  water  of  the  San  Saba  poured  over  a  fall  of  several  feet. 

perpendicular  descent  was  made  with  even,  glass-like  surface  until 
it  reached  a  mass  of  broken  rock  at  the  base,  through  which,  roaring 
and  leaping  in  foamy  masses  and  whitened  spray,  it  escaped  to  the 
level  bed  below.  A  mile  or  so  further  on  was  the  river's  source  where, 
welling  up  from  solid  ledge  rock,  more  than  a  dozen  springs  of  sur- 
passing beauty  united  their  waters  to  form  the  limpid  stream.  The 
topography  of  the  country  indicated  that  these  springs  were  fed 
through  one  of  nature's  syphons,  being  merely  a  subterranean  current 
crossing  through  the  rocky  labyrinths  underlying  the  plateaus  beyond. 
To  the  west,  and  close  at  hand,  was  the  most  elevated  peak  in  the 
contiguous  hills,  from  whose  side  approached  a  canon,  in  a  winding 
direction,  and  ending  at  the  gorge  through  which  the  river  coursed. 
Its  entrance  had  a  weird,  wild  appearance  to  Guy,  who  had  often 
passed  it,  and  had  cast  curious  looks  up  the  narrow  opening.  One 
of  the  few  prohibitory  rules  which  he  was  directed  to  obey,  when  he 
gave  his  fealty  to  the  tribe,  was,  on  no  account,  to  visit  that  canon, 
or  to  ascend  the  elevation  beyond.  This  was  not  special  as  to  the 
new  recruit,  but  bore  equally  on  the  Indians,  except  the  chiefs  and 
certain  older  warriors,  who  were  named  as  exceptions,  and  who  con- 
stituted their  advisers.  This  prohibition  naturally  aroused  the  curi- 
osity of  our  hero ;  but  as  he  attributed  the  regulation  to  some  prepos- 
terous  Indian  superstition,  he  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  run 
the  risk  of  its  gratification. 

But  he  was  destined  to  learn,  from  other  lips,  enough  to  seriously 
tempt  him  to  venture  on  the  exploration  of  the  forbidden  ground. 


28  GUY  RAYMOND. 

One  afternoon,  shortly  after  the  day  when  he  and  Pedro  had  brought 
the  deer  into  the  village,  Guy,  accompanied  by  Rolla,  was  returning 
down  the  river  bank  from  a  hunt  in  the  hills,  his  rifle  swung  care- 
lessly on  his  shoulders,  his  mind  so  absorbed  by  some  train  of  thought 
that  he  did  not  see  Laoni,  who  was  sitting  on  a  rocky  projection  just 
above  the  falls. 

She  called  to  him. 

"Why,  Laoni !     I  did  not  see  you." 

"Your  eyes  are. for  everything  but  Laoni." 

"My  thoughts  were  far  away/' 

"And  El  Bravo  would  like  to  be  with  his  thoughts." 

"You  are  right,  Laoni.  I  was  thinking  of  my  little  sister,  about 
whom  I  have  often  spoken  to  you.  She  may  be  living,  and  I  often 
hope  she  is.  But  it  is  almost  foolish  to  hope.  The  day  I  was  captured 
she,  with  my  father  and  mother,  must  have  been  killed  by  your  people." 

"If  they  were  killed,  the  warriors  know  it;  they  will  tell  El  Bravo." 

"I  could  not  ask ;  the  words  would  die  on  my  lips." 

"They  will  tell  Laoni." 

.  "I  do  not  want  to  know  it ;  for  if  the  slayers  of  my  family  were 
to  make  themselves  known  to  me " 

"Would  El  Bravo  fight?" 

"I  might  do  worse." 

"If  El  Bravo's  people  were  dead,  the  warriors  would  have  scalped 
them.  They  brought  no  scalps  to  the  village/' 

A  shudder  ran  through  Guy's  frame  at  the  thought  and  he  grew 
moody  and  silent. 

"Is  El  Bravo  sorry,  that  he  will  not  speak?" 

"I  am  sorry  that  you  saved  me  from  the  fire.  It  would  have  been 
better  to  let  me  burn." 

"Has  Laoni  made  El  Bravo  sorry?" 

"You  are  not  to  blame,  poor  girl,  for  my  captivity,  or  for  any 
sorrow  that  I  may  have.  You  have  a  good  heart  and  I  believe  that 
it  strives  to  do  right.  If  I  had  my  way,  you  would  not  be  long  in 
this  valley." 

"Where  would  Laoni  go?" 

"To  my  countrymen.  There  you  could  learn  our  language  and 
be  taught  the  peaceful  way  of  living.  After  you  would  learn  our 
customs,  you  could  return  to  your  people  and  lead  them  from  the 
bloody  paths  they  now  follow,  into  the  broad  road  of  peace  and  plenty. 
Then  would  you  have  large  villages,  surrounded  by  fields  of  corn  and 
grain,  with  sheep  and  cattle  and  horses  of  your  own  raising;  with 
schools  to  teach  the  children  how  to  read  and  write." 


GUY  EAYMOND.  29 

* 

"The  warriors  do  not  like  to  work;  the  prairie  is  full  of  buffalo 
and  deer,  and  the  hills  with  turkeys.  The  prairie  chicken  and  the 
partridge  in  the  valleys,  the  squirrel  and  the  rabbit  in  the  woods  are 
only  waiting  the  coming  of  the  huntsman.  The  water  at  our  feet 
p-ivcs  them  fish  when  they  tire  of  the  meat  from  the  prairie  and  the 
valley.  Hero  they  are  free  as  the  mountain  breeze;  and  before  the 
coming1  of  the  strangers  who  have  pushed  the  Indians  back  from  the 
south  they  were  like  the  leaves  of  the  trees,  and  the  scalps  of  twelve 
moons  could  be  counted  on  the  fingers." 

"My  poor  Laoni  cannot  know  the  pleasures  of  a  different  life. 
This  little  valley  is  your  world.  The  scalping  knife  and  the  tomahawk 
seem  to  you  more  useful  than  the  hoe  and  the  plow." 

"Laoni  believes  the  words  of  El  Bravo.  Laoni  has  not  seen  the 
white  people,  and  she  cannot  know  if  they  are  better  than  the  Indians. 
The  Mexicans  say  the  white  men  are  bad,  but  the  Mexicans  come 
wftli  lies.  They  made  our  fathers  work  to  build  big  houses  for  their 
i  Spirit.  They  came  to  this  valley  before  the  village  was  here, 
when  Walumpta  was  in  his  mother's  arms.  They  made  a  great  hole 
in  the  side  of  the  hill  in  the  canon  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  and 
our  fathers  worked' for  them.  They  took  out  loads  of  metal.  They 
brought  their  fighting  men  at  last  and  tried  to  take  our  land.  The 
Li  pans  were  strong  and  many.  They  told  the  Mexicans  to  go  back 
to  their  country.  The  Mexicans  laughed  at  the  Lipans,  and  before 
the  next  sun  went  down  their  scalps  were  hanging  from  the  belts  of 
orr  warriors." 

"What  metal  were  the  Moxicans  taking  from  the  hole  in  the 
canon?"  asked  Guy. 

She  told  him  the  Indian  name,  but  he,  not  knowing  the  word  in 
her  language  for  any  metal  except  the  one  for  iron,  was  in  doubt  as 
to  which  of  the  precious  ores  had  oxoitod  the  cupidity  of  the  unfor- 
tunates. 

She,  seeing  his  perplexity  at  not  comprehending  her  meaning, 
drew  from  her  bosom  a  medal,  and  holding  it  up.  said: 

"This  is  the  metal.     This  cnme  out  of  the  hole  in  the  canon  and 
was  made  by  one  of  the  Mexicans.     Walumpta's  father  got  it  from 
ck  of  the  man  when  ho  took  his  scalp." 

uy  look  fhe  medal  in  hi*  hand  and  mentally  pronounced  it  pure 
ilver.     On  one  side  v  ived   the.  figure  of  the  Virgin;  on  the 

the   monogram   for  "Aye  Marin/'     He  knew  there  must  be  a 
the  mod  from.     If  Laoni's  words  were  true. 

had   probably  discovered  it  and  had  worked  it  to  some 
(.     In  ilicir  greed  they  had.  doubtless,  attempted  to  occupy  the 


Dry  RAYMOND. 


rnuiilrv  in  I'mv:  had  antagonized  ihe  Indians  and  got  the  worst  o 
it.  The  slaughter  of  so  many  in  the  canon  had  invested  the  plac< 
\viili  a  species  of  dread  for  the  superstitious  Indians,  and  they  hac 
made  a.  law  forbidding  anyone  lo  visit  it.  tic  concluded  he  would  asl 
(lie  chief  to  suspend  the  rule  in  his  case. 

The  girl  watched  him  closely  while  these  thoughts  were  rapidl; 
passing  through  his  mind. 

'Ms  the  killing  of  so  many  Mexicans  the  reason  that  Walumpt; 
(iocs  nol:  want  any  one  lo  go  to  the  canon?'7  he  asked. 

"No,  mv  Bravo.  I  listened  while  Walunipta  and  the  old  men  wer 
speaking.  I  learned  the  secret  of  the  canon.  I  will  tell  it  to  E 
Bravo,  hut'  lie  must  not  lei  it  fall  from  his  lips.  If  he  tells  it  man; 
Laonis  could  not  save  him  from  the  fire  or  the  rifle." 

It  cannot  he  a  verv  groat  secret,  for  the  Indians  do  not  dig  fo 
silver." 

"When  the  Mexicans  were  killed,  the  chiefs  said  no  one  shouh 
go  to  the  canon,  so  that  in  time  the  silver  would  he  forgotten,  am 
strangers  would  not  want  the  land  of  the  Lipans.  The  Mexican 
love  silver  more  than  they  do  their  Great  Spirit.  Walumpta  says  th 
marks  on  this  piece  of  silver  keep?  away  the  had  Spirits." 

Guy  was  doubly  interested  now,  and  resolved  to  visit  the  canon  a 
any  risk.  He  explained  to  her  that  the  image  on  the  medal  repre 
sen  led  the  Mother  of  the  Christian  Gfod,  and  that  the  monogram  01 
the  reverse  was  calling  on  her  name. 

Laoni  was  much  pleased  at  the  explanation,  and  cast  an  unmis 
takablc  glance  of  admiration  at  her  "Bravo"  for  this  display  o 
erudition. 

As  night  was  approaching  Guy  gave  a  whistle  for  Eolla,  who  ha< 
gone  in  pursuit  of  a  rabbit.  He  came  bounding  from  the  bushes,  am 
the  two  arose  for  a.  return  to  the  village. 

"Do  white  men  wear  the  mother  of  their  God  on  their  breasts ?' 
asked  Laoni. 

"Few  white  men  have  any  love  for  her." 

"Why  not  love  her?" 

"Some  are  too  wicked;  and  a  great  many  do  not  believe  she  wa 
the  mother  of  God." 

"Because  she  was  a  spirit,  and  they  could  not  see  her?" 

"No,  she  was  a  woman,  just  like  you;  and  God  was  born,  a  littl 
baby,  just  like  the  little  one  of  Chicha's.  The  Christians  say  th 
Great  Spirit  was  his  father." 

"I  thought  the  little  baby  was  the  Great  Spirit,  and  now  Kl  Brav 
says  the  Great  Spirit  was  the  father  of  the  baby.  Could  the  Grea 


GUY  EAYMOND.  31 

Spirit  be  the  father  of  himself?    Could  he  live  before  he  was  born?" 

"Laoni  does  not  understand.  There  are  said  to  be  three  Great 
Spirits,  and  all  three  make  one  God.  One  is  the  father;  one  is  the 
son,  and  the  other  is —  is — 

"The  uncle?"  suggested  the  girl. 

"No,  you  simple  one.  The  other  is  a  spirit  related  in  some  way 
to  the  other  two." 

"That  is  funny/7  said  Laoni.  "And  did  the  baby  God  grow  to  be 
a  man?" 

"Yes,  he  lived  to  be  a  man.  He  was  a  workman,  and  helped  his 
father  build  houses." 

"His  father!     The  Great  Spirit  came  down  from  Heaven  to  build 
houses?     Could  the  people  see  his  father?" 

"Laoni  does  not  understand.  It  was  not  the  Great  Spirit;  but 
the  husband  of  Mary,  the  mother  of  God,  who  was  only  a  man  whom 
she  took  for  a  husband,  after  the  baby  God  was  born." 

"Why  did  the  Great  Spirit  make  his  son  do  work?" 

"I  suppose  because  he  thought  it  was  right,  as  he  went  about  teach- 
ing people  to  do  right  and  be  good.  The  people  would  not  listen  to 
his  wise  words  and  only  a  few  followed  him.  After  three  years  of 
teaching  the  people  of  his  nation  killed  him  by  nailing  his  hands  and 
his  feet  to  a  tree." 

"That  is  worse  than  Indians !  Lipans  would  not  kill  the  son  of 
their  Great  Spirit." 

"But  the  son  of  Mary  had  to  die,"  explained  Guy.  "The  Great 
Spirit  sent  him  to  this  world  to  be  killed,  just  like  he  was,  and  some- 
body had  to  do  it." 

"Then  his  father  was  glad  of  it,  and  the  men  who  killed  his  son 
were  not  bad  for  doing  what  they  had  to  do." 

"No,  Laoni,  God  was  angry;  and  he  made  darkness  and  lightning 
come;  the  earth  trembled,  and  all  the  people  who  had  anything  to  do 
with  his  death  are  said  to  be  in  torment,  burning  in  a  fire  that  never 
dies  out." 

"Laoni  does  not  want  a  Great  Spirit  like  that.  The  Great  Spirit 
of  the  Indians  will  not  burn  his  people  for  what  he  makes  them  do." 

"It  would  not  be  easy  to  make  you  a  Christian." 

"Does  El  Bravo  want  Laoni  to  love  a  bad  Great  Spirit?" 

"No,  Laoni.  He  wants  you  to  love  and  believe  in  one  who  is 
good  and  just;  in  one  who  is  above  our  weak  human  nature;  who 
flitters  by  unchanging  laws  this  great  and  mysterious  creation,  and 
who,  if  he  takes  note  of  actions  here,  wants  all  his  people,  Indians  and 
whites,  to  be  good  to  each  other.  If  he  is  a  person,  like  Christians 


GUY  RAYMOND. 

believe,  this  would  please  him.  He  would  like  to  have  the  white  men 
love  gold  and  silver  less,  and  see  the  Indians  throw  away  the  scalping 
knife  and  learn  the  ways  of  peace.  In  place  of  the  shouts  of  the 
raiders,  you  would  hear  the  songs  from  the  cornfield.  You  would 
forget,  in  the  bustle  of  the  harvest,  the  revelry  of  the  war  dance." 

"El  Bravo  speaks  well.  The  heart  of  Laoni  has  panted  for  such 
words,  and  they  fall  like  honey  from  his  lips.  If  our  warriors  could 
learn  your  ways,  happy  days  would  come  to  our  tribe,  and  this  valley 
would  be  fit  for  the  lodge' of  the  Great  Spirit  himself." 


CHAPTER  V. 

Gny,  after  leaving  Laoni,  turned  towards  his  lodge.  He  passed 
along  the  hovels  of  the  braves,  many  of  whom  were  squatting  around 
their  doors,  some  smoking  and  others  chatting,  while  the  squaws  were 
here  and  there  visibly  engaged  in  several  occupations.  He  heard  his 
sobriquet  pronounced  more  than  once  as  he  went,  and  several  times  he 
gave  grunts  of  recognition  in  exchange  for  siinilar  salutations!  The 
Indians  looked  upon  him  with  a  kind  of  awe.  He  had  escaped  from 
the  jaws  of  death,  by  little  less  than  a  miracle,  and  had  stood  all 
tests  to  prove  his  bravery  and  loyalty.  For  a  long  time  his  steps  had 
been  followed  by  spies  when  he  would  leave  the  valley,  and  his  actions 
noted  to  glean  the  first  intimation  of  any  attempt  to  escape.  In  no 
instance  had  the  Indians  been  able  to  find  fault  with  his  allegiance. 
Satisfied  with  his  loyalty,  he  had  captivated  his  captors  by  his  mild 
dignity,  his  bravery  and  his  fine  presence. 

The  discovery  that  a  silver  mine  was  near  at  hand,  and  that  it 
had  been  the  scene  of  a  massacre  years  before,  occupied  Guy's  thoughts 
so  completely  that  it  was  long-  in  vain  that  he  courted  slumber.  When 
be  finally  slept,  dream  visions  of  molten  silver  pouring  from  glowing 
furnace  would  be  dissipated  by  the  warwhoop  of  the  Lipan,  as  the 
Indian  brave  closed  in  the  death  struggle  with  the  avaricious  Spaniard. 
Then  he  dreamed  that  he  was  exploring  the  mine  with  a  torch  whose 
light  was  reflected  back  by  polished  slabs  of  silver,  leaning  against 
the  sides  of  the  excavation.  He  attempted  to  carry  one  of  these 
away  and  was  bending  under  the  weight  of  the  treasure  when  he 
encountered  Walumpta  at  the  opening.  He  hung  his  head  before  the 
chiding  presence  of  the  chief,  but  raised  his  eyes  on  hearing  the  voice 
of  Laoni  bewailing  the  fate  that  had  taken  E!  Bravo  to  the  mine.  It 
was  a  positive  relief  on  awakening,  to  find  himself  in  his  bed,  and  that 
he  had  been  dreaming. 


GUY  RAYMOND.  33 

The  rays  of  morning  wore  struggling  through  the  chinks  in  his 
cabin  wall  as  he  arose,  imref re-shed,  from  his  bed  of  robes.  The  next 
lodge  to  Guy's  was  Pedro's,  and  here  lie  look  his  meals,  which  never 
varied  from  some  kind  of  meat  and  the  ]\lo.\ican  tortilla.  Few  of 
the  Indians  ever  enjoyed  the  luxury  of  the  latter  article  of  food,  but 
Pedro,  having  inherited  a  fondness  for  the  national  cake,  had  made 
sure  that  a  knowledge  of  its  preparation  was  one  of  the  accomplish- 
ments of  the  squaw  of  his  choice. 

When  Guy  made  his  appearance,  Chidm  was  busy  preparing  the 

morning  meal,   while   the   old    woman   thev   called    the    k''Mu;jav    was 

tending  (he  infant  half-breed  and  grumbling  at  Chieha's  slothfulness. 

''What  makes  ('Inch,!   cook  so   many  tortillas?"  asked   Guy,  as  he 

noticed   an    unusual  quantity  of  the  cakes. 

"Pedro  goes  with    \Valumpta  and   the  others/'   responded    ('India. 
"Where  are  they  going  I-"'  ho  asked  her,  with  apparent  interest. 
•"Tar  away  on  the  Colorado,  so  Pedro  says/" 
Guy  became  thoughtful  for  a  moment. 

1  Fo  was  about  to  question  rhicha  further,  when  Pedro  made  his 
appearance,  armed  as  for  a  raid.  To  his  inquiring  glance  Pedro  made 
no  reply,  but  beckoned  him  aside. 

The    two    remained   in    conversation   for   some   time,   until   inter- 
rupted by  the  impatient  calls  of  ('India,  who  declared  that  the  grum- 
bling of  the  Muja  would  run  her  out  of  the  village.     Rather  than  be 
deserted    Pedro   repaired    to   the  feast  of  venison   and   tortillas, 
followed  by  Guy. 

In  discussing  the  merits  of  (''India's  cookery  none  of  the  adjuncts 
of  the  board,  nor  the  board   itself,  were  available,  and   first  principles 
assorted  themselves  in  handling  and   preparing  the  food   for  mastica- 
tion.    Guy  was'  very  silent    during  the  meal   and,  so  soon  as   it   was 
over,  be  lost  no  time  in  seeking  Laoni.     The  girl  was  in  her  father's 
lodge,   attending   to   lhe   simple  duties   claiming  her  daily   attention. 
The  abode  of  the  chief  was  constructed  partly  of  rock,  procured  from 
iver  bed.  where  it'  was  to  be  found  in  large  supply,  and  in  every 
shnpo  and  size.     The  apartment  of  Laoni  was  luxuriously  furnished, 
in    Indian    stylo,   and    boasted    a    carpet   of   skins   ingenuously   joined 
her.      In   lieu  of  seats,  bearskin   rugs  were  disposed   around   the 
.   while  the  virgin  couch   consisted    of  hair  encased  in  soft  and 
tindy  dressed  buffalo  robe. 

A.S   Guy   was   an  unceremonious   visitor,  he  entered    at  once,   and 

••d   the  mistress  of  the  room,  whose  countenance  brightened,  as 

it,  usuallv  did,  whenever  El  Bravo  appeared.    Laoni  was,  by  no  means, 

an   ordinary  girl,  even    when   contrasted  with  the  average  of  her  sex 


34  GUY  EAYMOND. 

representing  races  advanced  in  civilization.  She  appeared  to  rise 
above  her  surroundings  and  seemed  conscious  of  her  superiority.  The 
springs  of  her  mind  needed  but  the  magic  touch  of  demonstration 
to  cause  them  to  send  it  bounding  to  complete  appreciation.  This 
was  true  in  all  questions  which  appealed  to  heart  and  conscience,  and 
not  involving  principles  based  merely  on  the  usages  or  culture  of 
civilization,  or  the  dogmas  of  religion.  Her  features  intelligent,  her 
head  shapely  and  well  poised,  her  figure  rather  slender,  made  up  a 
combination  which  lacked  only  advantages  to  bring  her  to  the  standard 
of  refinement.  Guy's  magnetism  and  teaching  had  attracted  and  in- 
structed her  until  she  had  developed,  in  no  inconsiderable  degree,  a 
natural  superiority  to  her  surroundings. 

She  noted  the  cloud  upon  the  brow  of  the  youth  and  the  earnest 
glances  which  she  cast  rapidly  and  inquiringly  to  his  countenance 
were  sufficiently  intelligible  to  elicit  an  explanation.  Guy  remained 
mute  and  thoughtful. 

"Has  El  Bravo  lost  his  voice?    Has  he  no  word  for  Laoni?" 

"Call  me  no  more  El  Bravo;  I  am  a  coward,  a  renegade,  anything 
but  brave.  I  have  lost  the  friendship  of  Walumpta.  He  has  for- 
gotten the  arm  which  did  him  service,  and  he  goes  today  to  raid  my 
people,  and  would  leave  me  to  skulk  in  the  village  while  the  firebrand 
and  scalping  knife  are  at  work  on  the  Colorado.  Laoni,  are  my 
words  not  true?" 

"El  Bravo  speaks  the  truth.  Walumpta  goes  to  the  Colorado.  He 
must  listen  to  his  braves.  His  voice  is  but  little  more  than  one  in 
the  council.  He  would  not  harm  your  people,  but  the  warriors  do 
not  look  upon  them  or  upon  you  with  the  eyes  of  their  chief  and  his 
daughter.  They  are  jealous  of  the  white  man,  and  many  are  not 
pleased  that  El  Bravo  has  not  only  won  his  name,  but  the  love 
Laoni." 

"I  expected  the  truth  from  your  lips,  and  am  not  disappointed. 
Honor  forbids  me  to  stay  longer  in  this  village,  which  is  now  become 
the  spring  from  which  will  pour  out  the  waters  of  destruction  on  my 
unhappy  countrymen.  Duty  commands  me  to  go,  if  not  to  assist, 
least  to  warn  them  of  danger." 

"Would  El  Bravo  leave  the  village  when  his  people  have  not  been 
harmed?  Is  the  raid  of  the  few  warriors  enough  to  part  him  from 
Laoni,  who  will  be  forgotten  when  the  life  of  the  Indian  is  put 
aside?" 

"I  have  not  used  false  words  to  Laoni.  I  have  been  as  open  a- 
she  has  been  truthful.  My  duty  is  plain.  If  I  am  to  be  betrayed, 
you  know  my  resolution.  The  warriors  are  yet  here,  and  if  the  bl< 


GUY  EAYMOND.  35 

of    my  people   must  be  spilled,   let  my  'scalp   be  the  first  from  the 
victims  of  the  coming  butchery." 

"l)id  Laoni  save  a  life  to  betray  it?  When  you  were  a  prisoner 
I  pitied  you.  For  pity  I  braved  the  anger  of  the  council  and  took 

from  the  lire  whose  smoke  had  already  risen  above  the  lo, 
You  taught  me  to  love  you  by  your  words  which  became  to  my  ears 
as  honey  to  my  taste.  For  you  I  have  found  myself  hating  the  acts 
of  1  be' Indian.  My  body  and  my  spirit  have  seemed  only  to  move 
and  aci  and  think  for  you.  If  only  pity  saved  your  life,  by  what 
while  man's  rule  do  you  look  for  the  mad  love  of  the  Indian  girl  to 
betray  it?" 

"Forgive  inc.  Laoni.  1  did  not  mean  to  doubt  you.  I  wished  to 
>how  you  how  deiermined  I  am  that  the  end  of  this  raid  shall  not 
iii id  me  here." 

"El  Bravo  has  said  it.     The  words  of  Laoni  cannot  change  him." 

"I  am  glad  you  know  me  so  well,  and  I  honor  you  for  this  calm- 
ness. Laoni,  why  cannot  you  fly  with  me?  With  my  people  you 
will  be  more  content  than  in  the  savage  life  of  these  hills.  In  me 
you  will  always  find  a  friend  who  will  toil  for  you  so  long  as  life  lasts/' 

"Is  Walmnpta  dead?  Must  my  father  lose  his  child,  that  El 
PHMVO  may  have  a  poor  Indian  girl  to  work  for?  Leave  Laoni  with 
li€;r  people.  If  her  heart  only  goes  with  the  one  she  loved,  he  will 
U  (he  freer  for  it.  (If  Laoni  is  not  forgotten,  if  she  is  worth  El 
Bravo's  love,  he  will  again  seek  her  in  these  hills,  where  first  she 
pitied  and  then  learned  to  love  him." 

(luv  was  much  affected  by  the  words  of  the  j^irl.  lie  turned 
aside  with  moistened  eyes,  and  looked  out  upon  the  hills  rising  in 
tiers  to  the  east. 

"Oh!"  he  thought.  "What  a  bitter  enp  is  mine.  I  would  now 
prefer  this  girl's  treachery  to  her  love.  Yet,  true  hearts  are  so  rare, 
!•!  e  very  thought  seems  monstrous.  I  admire  and  am  attached  to  her, 
but  how  can  I  yield  her  the  love  for  which  she  craves.  It  would 
blight  my  future  by  chaining  me  (<>  an  Indian  life,  or  weighting  me 
with  the  odium  which  the  conventionalities  of  my  race  would  place 
upon  such  a  union." 

His  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  the  girl. 

"Have  Laoni's  wrords  made  El  Bravo  sad?" 

i  your  words  alone.  I,  too,  have  a  heart  which  must  beat  for 
those  who  love  me;  and  the  thought  of  leaving  her  who  saved  my 
life  must  make  nnhappv  the  hour  which  will  separate  us." 

"Thinlc  not  of  my  words  ihen,  and  let  us  laugh  at  parting.  Laoni 
would  have  her  Bravo  go  away  happy.  He  will  sometimes  think  of 


ill': 

\v;iv 


,°,G  Gry  RAYMOND. 

Iho  village  and  of  tlie  Indian  girl,  who  waits  his  coming.  \Vhen  the 
sun  will  sink  behind  the  hills  Laoni  will  sit  on  the  rock  above  the 
falls  and  think  of  El  Bravo,  who  used  to  sit  beside  her." 

"Let  us  talk  of  something  else,"  said  Guy,  "or  you  will  make  me 
sad  again.     See,  there  go  the  raiders!     Lnoni.  the  time  is  near  v\ 
I  must  leave  the  village." 

As  Guy  spoke  a  long  file  of  Indians  was  winding  up  the  pathway 
leading  east  over  the  hills.  It  was  the  party  which  IVdro  hml  joined, 
and  whose  destination  wras  the  cause  of  the  sudden  resolution  to 
escape  from  his  enforced  residence  among  the  Lipnns.  Wn!ump(-i 
had  opposed  a  raid  upon  the  white  sol-tiers  on  the  lower  Colorado,  as 
he  had  often  assured  Guy  he  would  do,  but  he  had  been  overruled 
by  a  nearly  unanimous  vote  of  the  council  and  had  to  yield  to  estab- 
lished custom.  He  did  not  intend  that  the  true  destination  of  the 
party  should  be  made  known  to  his  young  friend,  and  had  diVvied 
Laoni  to  deceive  him.  Guy's  sudden  appearance  at  her  lodge  and 
direct  charge  as  to  the  true  purposes  of  the  expedition  had  changed 
her  already  wavering  intention  to  mislead  him. 

Her  devotion  to  El  Bravo  was  supreme  and  her  resolution  was 
taken  not  only  to  shield  him  in  his  plan  to  escape,  but  to  assist-  him 
in  preparations.  Unselfish  in  her  love,  she  w.as  willing  to  lose  his 
presence  to  advance  his  happiness.  The  last  raider  had  disappeared  in 
the  hills,  when  Guy,  turning  to  the  girl,  informed  her  that  he  must 
go  to  prepare  for  his  departure. 

"When  the  sun  casts  no  shadow,  come  to  the  springs,"  he  s 
"I  will  be  there  with  my  pom'  and  Holla,  and  go  west  around  the 
mountain." 

"Loani  will  come,"  was  her  laconic  reply. 

Guy  took  his  way  to  his  cabin  full  of  the  interest  inspired  by 
prospect  of  his  trip,  which  ho  was  impressed  must  ho  attended  with 
more  or  less  danger.     On  reaching  Pedro's  lodp-e.  Chicha  and  the 
squaw  were  in  a  wrangle  which  had  lasted  since  the  niornin<_>;  mvil. 

"Have  Chicha  and  the  Muja  nothing  but  cross  words?"  lie  as 

"Old  squaw  like  to  fuss,"  said  Chicha.  "She  mad  because  P 
took  all  the  dried  meat." 

This  was  a  disappointment,  to  Guy,  who  had  do1  ended  on  getting 
a  supply  of  cured  venison  from  Chicha  to  serve  for  two  or  throe  days' 
rations.  He  determined,  however,  not  to  lot  this  dott-r  him.  but  to 
start  at  once  and  trust  to  chance  for  the  wherewith  to  appease  his 
hunger. 

"El  Bravo  must  kill  a  deer  today,"  said  Chicha,  "or  we  will  h 
nothing  to  eat." 


Gkrx  tt.vYMoxn.  3 


"1  will  go  tlvis  very  morning,"  said  Guy.     "Have  you  any  tortillas 
to  give  me?    1  may  be  gone  until  the  sun  is  low." 

The  squaw  procured  several  of  the  desired  cakes  and  Guy,  taking 
;  In  -in  from  her,  went  to  his  own  abode.  Here  he  gathered  together 
what  articles  were  necessary  for  his  trip.,  including  his  rifle  and  am- 
munition, and  then  went  out  on  the  green  for  his  pony.  A  half  hour 
he  was  in  his  saddle  and,  saying  to  Chicha  that  it  might  be 
night  before  he  returned,  he  galloped  off  up  the  valley,  followed  by 
his  faithful  Tiolia.  Just  before  reaching  the  falls  he  descended  the 
river  bank  and,  erossing  the  stream,  continued  towards  its  source. 
Arriving  at-  the  canon  loading  to  the  commanding  peak  he  turned 
it  and  was  soon  lost  in  its  turns.  He  experienced  a  species  of 
awe  as  the  clatter  of  his  pony's  hoofs  awoke  the  silence  of  the  for- 
bidden ground.  I!  is  rapid  pace  brought  him  to  the  expanding  area 
of  ihe  let-minus  of  the  whose  irregular  lines  were  bounded  by 

the  mountain  side  as  a  base,  with  abrupt,  rocky  acclivities  on  the 
north  and  poutb.  At  the  latter  point,  tunneling  a  spur  of  the  peak, 
was  the  mine,  the  entrance  looking  darkly  forbidding,  half  concealed 
by  the  bushes  and  weeds,  while  the  debris  and  refuse  of  the  excava- 
tion readied  in  a  long  line  from  its  vicinity  to  a  huge  pile,  occupying 
the  center  of  the  space. 

Dismounting,    Guy   was    not    long   in   gaining   the   entrance,    and 
found   himself  in  a  tunneled  excavation,  extending  until  the  shadows 
soncealed   its   furthest  recesses.     To  the  right  was  a  shaft,  into  which 
'red.   without  being   nble  to  calculate   its   depth.      Stooping  to 
p  something  to  toss  into  the  vortex,  he  raised   a  human  skull, 
ho  throw  from  him  in  disgust.     The  hideous  relic  of  humanity 
ervod   his  purpose  as  it  rolled  into  the  shaft  and  went   thumping  its, 
sides   to   the   bottom.      His   eyes   becoming  accustomed  to  the  gloom, 
ad   a  bet  lor  view  of  ihe   uneven  bottom  and   jagged   sides  of  the 
ike  arai'tment.     In   a  search   for  specimens  of  ore  he  was  not 
lixe  the  visions  of  his  dream,  but  contented  himself  with  a   few 
fragments   of   rock,    containing   small    particles   of   glistening   metal, 
apparontlv  silver. 

While  in  contemplation  of  his  samples  a  slight  noise  caused  him 
to  raise,  his  bond,  when  ho  behold  Laoni  within  a  few  feet  of  him. 

"Kl   Bravo  is  not   at  the  springs,  and   eyes,  that  are  not  Laoni's. 
saw  him  come  into  the  canon/7 

or  is  the  sun  overhead.     What  brings  Laoni  here?" 
oes  El  Bravo  ask?     The  metal  so  dear  to  the  Mexican,  so  loved 
by  the  white,  man   has  won  even   "Kl    HravoV  heart,  since  ii   lias  made 
forget  bis  hurry  io  leave  these  hills  and  brave  the  spies  of  (ho 


CO  I  H  (   -I 

which 


blUtJS 

IK'  hai 


,°,S  (JlY    \l\\  MO  NT). 

council.  What  brings  Laoni  here?  More  than  the  silver,  tliat  he 
loves.  Come,  we  must  leave  the  canon,  for  it  is  known  that  you  arc 
here." 

''Your  story  of  the  Spaniards  that  were  killed  at  this  mine  mare 
me  wish  to  see  it.     We  will  go  to  the  springs  and  then 


"El   Bravo  will  go.     But  we  must  not  go  to  the  springs  no 
Spie>  will  see  us,  and  the  council  will  know  that  we  have  been  here. 

(Jny,  submitting  to  her  guidance,  followed  until  they  reached  the  v 
spot  where  he  had  left  his  pony.  Here  Laoni  produced  a  buckskin 
pouch  filled  with  dried  meat,  and  gave  it  to  him,  saying  that  she  had 
le;irncd  from  ('hicha  that  he  had  none.  Much  affected  by  Ibis  addi- 
iional  kindness,  he  could  not  refrain  from  embracing  bi>  little  less 
than  guardian  angel,  while  conflicting  emotions  filled  bis  breast  and 
his  eyes  brimmed  with  tears  of  honest  regret  that  he  could  not  snatch 
this  faithful  heart'  from  her  environment  and  place  it  on  the  very 
pinnacle  of  earthly  content.  Cuided  by  the  girl,  he  followed  to  the 
southeast  angle  of  the  level,  where  was  disclosed  a  narrow  trail,  barely 
visible,  that  wound  up  UK;  rocky  sleep  among  tall  bushes,  concealing 
them  effectually  as  they  made  the  ascent.  The  sure-footed  Indian 
ponv  clambered  after  them,  and  ere  many  minutes  they  gained  the 
brow  of  the  elevation,  and  looked  down  upon  the  lower  hills  and 
the  stretch  of  valley  beyond.  The  September  temperature  had  not 
changed  the  vernal  appearance  of  the  view.  Not-  a  leaf  had  assumed 
a  single  tinge  prophetic  of  the  autumn  that  was  so  near.  To  the  left 
a  silver  thread,  lost  here  and  there  in  the  mass  of  emerald,  marked 
the  course  of  the  river  as  it  wound  round  the  valley  where  the  smoke 
of  the  village  could  be  seen  as  it  rose  above  the  quaint  babitatio 
Here  they  rested  while  Guy  took  a  survey  of  the  distant  pros 
towards  which  he  must'  bend  bis  course,  when  he  once  quit  his  prese 
locality  and  parted  with  the  faithful  girl  at  his  side.  The  rugged 
chain  of  hills  was  lost  in  the  smoky  hori/on  to  the  southwest  and 
would  separate  him,  in  his  flight,  from  the  raiding  Lipans  who  would 
journey  along  its  eastern  foot1  for  some  distance  before  they  turned 
their 'course  to  the  Colorado. 

"Does  El  Bravo  know  the  trail  that  will  lake  him  to  his  people?" 

"Trails  will  not  bother  me.  I  have  the  mountains  and  the  sun 
for  guides.  My  course  will  touch  the  foot  of  the  range  for  three  or 
four  days." 

"See!"  said  the  girl,  pointing  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  can 
"Laoni  did  well  to  follow  and  lead  you  here." 

(Juy  looked  through  an  opening  in  the  hughes  and  beheld  the  well- 
known  form  of  I'onseca,  an  old  Indian  who  belonged  to  the  council  of 


or 




GUY  RAYMOND.  39 

the  tribe,  and  who  possessed  great  influence  in  its  deliberations.  He 
had  voted  for  Guy's  execution  with  the  minority,  and  had  never  mani- 
fested any  real  good-will  for  the  white  convert.  His  objeri  was  quite 
plainly  indicated  by  his  actions,  which  appeared  to  be  directed  to  the 
discovery  of  some  object  in  the  vicinity  of  the  mine. 

"You  are  a  brave  girl,  Laoni.  Ponseca  wants  to  catch  me  in 
the  mine.  Your  coming  has  saved  my  life — or  his." 

"Where  is  Eolla?    If  he  sees  the  dog,  he  will  know  the  master  is 


o 

near." 


Guy  gave  a  low  whistle,  then  a  little  louder  cull,  and  Eolla  cam'' 
rushing  from  a  direction  opposite  to  the  canon. 

"Good  Eolla!  I  might  have  known  you  had  not  remained  to 
betray  me." 

To  avoid  observation  they  moved  further  down  the  slope.  Guy 
busied  himself  with  tightening  the  girth  of  his  saddle  and  securing 
to  the  latter  the  few  traps  necessary  for  his  journey. 

"Now,  Laoni,  we  must  part,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  tremulous  with 
emotion.  "Your  Indian  tongue,  or  even  the  language  of  my  own 
people,  cannot  give  me  words  to  tell  you  how  much  I  suffer  in  leave 
you  here,  in  this  wild  place,  among  these  Indians,  who  are  so  dill'erent 
from  you.  You  saved  my  life;  you  gave  me  your  friendship  and 
your  love.  You  have  been  the  bright  star  whose,  light  has  shone  in 
the  black  sky  of  my  captivity.  My  life  is  yours.  You  have  returned 
it  to  me  that  I  may  go  back  to  my  people,  learn  the  fate  of  my 
family,  and  perform  the  tender  duties  of  a  son  and  brother." 

"Laoni  is  an  Indian;  El  Bravo  is  a,  white  man.  My  people  are 
taught  to  brave  trouble  and.  even  death,  without  a  iear  in  1he  eye 
or  a  quiver  on  the  lip.  Laoni's  love  for  El  Bravo  is  more  than  her 
life.  She  can  give  up  her  life,  but  as  long  as  it  lasis  her  love  must 
remain.  El  Bravo  will  go  to  his  people,  but  the  Indian  girl  would 
not  keep  him.  Laoni  will  wait  until  the  leaves  will  fall  and  come^ 
again,  and  longer;  and  if  he  comes  no  more,  her  heari  will  he  sad. 
but  it  will  always  be  with  El  Bravo." 

"If  your  heart  will  he  sad,  my  own  will  be  full  of  sorrow  at  leav- 
ing one  who  is  so  true  and  so  good;  who,  while  she  lo\es  me,  is  brave 
enough  to  sacrifice  her  feelings  for  my  interests." 

Guy  took  her  in  his  arms  as  he  said  this,  and  gave  her  one  long- 
embrace.  She  clung  to  him  with  the  energy  of  despair;  then  releas- 
ing him,  she  threw  herself  upon  the  ground,  uttering  a  long,  plaintive 
cry  that  could  only  come  from  a  heart  almost  broken  with  grief. 
With  a  bound  ho  was  in  his  saddle,  aud  the  next  moment  he  was 
making  the  descent  of  the  broken  hillside  at  a  pace  that  would  have 


40  GUY  RAYMOND. 

been  dangerous  for  an  ordinary  rider.  He  did  not  look  back  until 
he  had  cleared  the  hills  and  turned  his  pony's  head  to  the  course  he 
was  to  pursue.  The  rough  descent  looked  smooth  enough  above  the 
green  foliage  of  the  mountain  growth.  The  grand  old  peak  above 
the  mine  reared  its  commanding  head  in  majestic  superiority  above 
its  fellows.  But  the  center  of  interest  with  our  hero  was  a  lone 
figure  beneath  its  shadows,  that  was  waving  him  the  last  sad  adieux 
of  a  brave  and  faithful  heart.  Oh,  strange  world!  Oh,  stranger 
humanity!  If,  on  the  dialplatq.  of  time,  the  last  eighteen  month* 
could  be  turned  back  from  the  past  with  their  terrible  record,  what 
a  load  it  would  lift  from  more  than  one  suffering  heart!  Wiser  then 
to  yield  to  the  inevitable  without  sigh  or  lamentation.  The  wheel 
of  destinv  inusl,  revolve.  Who  would  clutch  its  spokes  must  he  maimed 
for  Hie  temerity. 

CHAPTER  VT. 

"This  is  an  excellent  place  to  cam])  for  the  night,  senor.  We 
will  have  fine  water,  plenty  of  wood  for  a  fire  and  grass  for  the 
animals." 

"Then  we  had  better  stop  here,  by  all  means;  and,  as  you  say. 
it  is  only  eighteen  miles  to  town,  we  will  be  able  to  make  the  distance 
by  noon  tomorrow/3 

"Easily.     Jose,  undo  the  packs.     We  will  make  camp  over  there, 
under  that  fine  tree;  let  a  fire  be  made  at  once,  for  a  cup  of  coffi 
will  be  most  acceptable  after  our  day's  ride." 

The  speakers  were  of  a  party  of  five  mounted  travelers,  who  h 
arrived  at  a  picturesque  spot  on  the  bnnks  of  a  <-lo-ir,  running  water- 
course. It  was  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  fatigued  party  w 
lured,  by  the  attractions  of  the  locality,  to  decide  on  resting  for  t 
night  where  the  wants  of  man  and  benst  could  be  so  readilv  supplied. 
The  language  in  which  they  conversed  was  the  pure  Spanish,  which 
fact,  coupled  with  an  ease  of  bearing  and  a  polish  of  manner,  bespoke 
education  and  gentle  breeding.  The  first  speaker  was  a  man  of 
middle  age  and  ruddy  complexion,  with  clearly  cut  and  rather  hand- 
some features.  The  expression  of  his  face  was  remnrkablv  benignant 
and  cheerful.  His  voice  was  musical  and,  when  addressing  Jose,  was 
mellowed  by  the  kindliness  of  his  tone.  His  dress  and  the  peculiar 
shovel  hat  he  wore  indicated  his  priestly  character.  The  other, 
habited  in  the  garb  of  a  Mexican  civilian  of  means,  was  a  favorable 
representative  of  the  typo.  Like  the  priest,  lie  was  somewhat  above 
the  medium  stature,  while  his  complexion  was  darker  and  features 


: 


GUY  If. \V.MO.\I).  41 

less   regular.     The  latter,,  in   expression.,   contrasted  singularly  with 
se  of  his  companion,  indicating  a  superciliousness  in  their  pos- 
sessor that  would  join  to  the  indifference  of  the  man  of  the  world  a 
stimulating  self-esteem  calculated  to  chill  and  repel. 

Jose  and  the  two  others  rf  the  party  were  typical  Mexicans  of  the 
lower  order.  Jose  was  perhaps  somewhat  superior  in  his  get-up,  from 
mule  he  bestrode  to  the  general  toilet  of  his  slight  person,  in- 
cluding the  enormous  spurs  that  decked  his  heels.  His  two  peers  had 
rich  a  pack  mule  loaded  with  the  baggage  and  effects  of  the  travelers. 
The  entire  party  dismounted  after  the  order  to  Jose,  who  came 
forward  and  took  charge  of  the  horses  of  the  priest  and  his  com- 
panion. The  packs  were  removed  by  the  muleteers,  and  soon  the 
crackling  blaze  of  a  fire  sprang  from  the  dry  brush  and  wood  collected 
by  Hie  men,  and  gave  an  appearance  of  animation  to  the  camp.  Jos*', 
after  spreading  blankets  on  which  the  priest  and  his  companion  might 
repose  their  weary  limbs,  busied  himself  to  put  the  camp  in  order 
and  to  prepare  the  coffee  as  directed.  His  actions  indicated  that  he 
v,as  quite  an  adept  in  his  occupation,  for  his  celerity  of  movement 
was  remarkable,  taking  into  consideration  the  facts,  first,  of  his 
nationality,  and  then  the  spurs  on  his  heels. 

While  the  men  were  busy,  the  two  central  figures  were  taking 
their  ease,  reclining  on  the  outspread  blankets,  conversing  in  easy 
tones  of  the  camp,  of  the  country,  of  the  pretty  prospect  on  the 
further  side  of  the  San  Geronimo,  where  lay  an  open,  undulating 
'lane  of  several  miles.  Through  the  latter  wound  the  road  they 
:ere  pursuing,  showing  itself  plainly  at  intervals,  and  again  looking 
a  mere  thread,  as  it  marked  the  side  of  a  distant  rise. 
"The  Americans  would,  doubtless,  like  to  possess  this  fair  country. 
leir  immigration  here  and  naturalization  is  a  mere  pretext  to  gain 
foothold  with  an  ultimate  design  to  sever  it  from  Mexico,"  said  the 
rilian. 

"The  truth  of  what  you  say  is  only  too  apparent  from  recent 
rents,"  replied  the  priest.  "The  next  few  months,  I  hope,  will 
settle  this  colonizing  business  and  see  a  policy  inaugurated  that  will 
.'fFectuallv  dampen  the  rebellious  temperament  of  these  Texans." 

"When  once  His  Excellency  puts  foot  on  Texas  soil  he  will  make 
lort  work  of  them.  He  has  been  wise  to  conceal  his  real  intentions 
•wards  tin's  people.  That  policy  of  his  was  adopted  through  my 
Ivice  after  my  official  visit  here  to  estimate  the  population  and 
-  of  the  country.  I  discovered  one  fact  at  that  time;  that  it 
>uld  never  do  to  give  them  warning  of  the  advance  of  our  troops. 
Tore  many  days  there  will  be  national  troops  enough  in  Texas  to 
ish  the  enemies  of  Mexico/' 


-j->  Guy  EAYMOND. 

The  report,  of  a.  gun  interrupted  the  conversation;  and  while  they 
were  still  speculating  as  to  who  it  could  be  so  near,,  a  deer  came 
I. on ix lino-  from  the  thicket  and,  leaping  over  the  brook,  fell  struggling 
a  few  Feet  below  them.  Anticipating  that  the  shot  might  have  come 
from  Indians  of  a  hostile  tribe,  the  whole  party  at  once  stood  to  thei 
arms. 

"An   Indian  must  have  shot  that  deer/'  said  the  priest. 

"Most  probably,  and  the  best  thing  for  us  to  do  is  to  take  a  tree, 
the  oilier  suggested. 

"Jose,  von  and  'the  others  get  to  cover.  We  will  soon  see  the 
slaver  of  that  buck." 

.lose  and  the  two  men  did  not  stop  to  argue  the  matter,  but  sought 
the  nearest  available  protection,  in  accordance  with  the  good  father's 
suggestion. 

Their  eves  were  actively  scanning  the  direction  whence  the  shot 
had  come,  when  the  cracking  of  the  brush  attracted  their  attention, 
and  the  next  moment  an  Indian,  mounted  and  followed  by  a  dog, 
(•Mine  into  new,  within  gunshot  of  the  fallen  tree  behind  which  Jose 
was  lying.  The  intruder  was  evidently  surprised  at  the  appearance 
of  a  camp,  for  he  reined  up  his  pony  and  glanced  quickly  from  side 
to  side,  as  if  in  search  of  the  human  occupants  to  whom  belonged 
the  grazing  animals  and  the  bright  fire  that  was  shooting  its  flames 
up  to  the  very  branches  of  the  tree.  He  caught  sight  of  Jose's  som- 
hrero,  just  as  that  individual  raised  his  musket  and  fired  deliberately 
fit  him.  Understanding  now  the  situation,  the  supposed  Indian  calle 
out  in  ii'ood  Spanish  : 

"Do"  not  fire !    I  am  a  friend  !" 

Then  reversing  his  gun  to  show  his  peaceable  intentions,  he 
to  the  campfire  and  dismounted.     He  was  quickly  surrounded  by  the 
cainpers.  curious  to  inspect  the  hunter  whose  habiliments  were  Mexic 
Indian,  but  whose  features  contradicted  the  inferential  nationaliti 
while  his  accent  and  correct  Spanish  confirmed  the  contradiction. 

The  priest  first  questioned  him : 

"Who  are  you,  and  which  way  are  you  traveling?" 

"I  have  been  a  captive,  and  have  just  effected  my  escape  from  t 
Indians." 

"What  is  your  name,  my  young  friend  ?" 

"Guy  Raymond,  sir;  whom  have  I  the  honor  to  address?" 

"I  am  Father  Ignacio.of  the  parish  of  San  Fernando,  in  Bex 
Tin's  is — is — Senor —  Oonzales,  and  these  are  our  servants.  Jose 
a  bad  marksman  or  you  would  be  the  worst  for  his  impetuous  dis 


itely 

** 

rode 


GUY  I  RAYMOND.  43 

"i  thought  lie  was  a  sure  enough  [ndian/'  remarked  Jose,  apolo- 
getically. 

"!'>v  ihe  way,  youn^  man,  you  killed  your  deer.  He  is  lying  just 
over  ilie  brook/'  said  Seiior  (Jon/ales. 

That's  good  news,"  said  (iuy.  "\Vc  had  belter  skin  liini  before 
if  grows  dark,  /lose,  can  I  liave  your  help?'' 

"Hive  yourself  no  Irouble  about  if,  Senor  Raymond,"  said  fbe 
priest.  "Those  two  Mo/os  will  dress  ihe  deer,  while  Jose  will  serve 
(he  coffee.  It'  seems  like  ho  lias  iakon  longer  than  usual  to  get  it 
ready,  .lose,  you  used  to  get  around  faster,  mnehaeho  niio." 

"'I   was  about  to  serve  it   \vhen  Senor  Raymond  e;ave  us  the  scare." 

ikl  call  that  most  ill-mannered  and  ungenerous,  to  lay  your  short- 
comings  <>n  our  guest,  who,  at  the  same  time;  is  our  benefactor,  having 
brought  us  a  fleer." 

Jose  took  the  priest's  words  half  in  earnest  until  lie  caught  the 
smile  on  his  jovial  face,  which  soon  terminated  in  laughter,  as  he 
motioned  (iuy  to  the  inspection  of  his  game. 

Over  the  coffee  which  Jose  brought  steaming,  to  them,  Guy  related 
to  Souor  Gonzales  and  the  priest,  the  story  of  his  rapture,  his  life, 
among  the  Indians  and  his  escape  four  days  before.  He  was  de- 
lighted with  his  new  company,  especially  with  the  priest,  whose  kind 
manner  won  his  heart.  The  cotfee  and  crackers  were  a  irreai  treat, 
not  having  partaken  of  the  be  nor  of  any  kind  of  bread  for 

nearly  two  years.  Surfeited  with  moat,  lie  scarcely  tasted  of  the 
venison  that  Jose  had  cooked  for  their  supper.  Eolla,  however,  not 
so  dainty  as  IIH  master,  did  not'  refuse  a  hiiiro  cut  from  the  rejected 
shoulders  of  the  buck. 

(<uv,  much  fatigued  by  bis  lon^  and  lonesome  ride,  was  <^lad  to 
st -etch  his  limbs  on  the  pallet  he  made  under  the  same  tree  where 
lu  had  enjoyed  his  supper.  1 1  is  new  friends  had  also  lain  down 
(|i  ite  near,  and  quiet  rested  over  the  cam]).  He  tried  for  a  IOML>;  time 
to  _L'o  t'o  sleep,  but  he  was  conscious  of  the  least  sounds,  such  as  the 
low  nasal  whines  of  Eolla  as  he  skirmished  with  the  liens,  or  the 
trai'ipinir  of  a  horse,  as  h"  broke  the,  twin's  in  the  undergrowth  while 
browsino-  on  its  leaves.  His  mind  had  all  to  do  with  his 

wakefulness.  The  Indian  village,  with  its  huts  and  lodges,  nestled 
in  the  hills  he  had  so  hitrly  left,  was  plainly  pictured.  His  own 
apartment,  v.'iib  its  rawhide  roof,  mo>-t  familiar,  presented  itself  in 
al  its  details,  within  and  without,  now  done  with  him  forever.  The 
chief-  nbodo,  with  the  bower  of  his  friend,  the  passionate  and  faith- 
ful Laoni,  with  its  orderly  arrangement:  of  handsome  furs  and  robes, 
d  in  mental  review.  He  thought  over  their  last  long  interview 


44  GUY  EAYMOND. 

in  her  apartment,  her  touching  words  and  her  devotion  to  Walumpta. 
His  mind  wandered  to  the  rock  above  the  falls,  where  they  used  to 
sit  and  where  he  knew  she  would  often  go  again  to  think  and  wait 
for  El  Bravo.  It  was  very  late.,  and  still  the  Goddess  of  Slumber  he 
would  fain  woo  to  his  arms,  held  herself  aloof  and  pointed  remorse- 
lessly to  recollections  of  his  late  wild  life.  From  the  rock  above  the 
falls'  he  dreamily  wandered  to  the  canon,  and  up  its  rocky  steep.  Its 
jagged  sides  and  impending  boulders  projected  threateningly  above 
him,  while  he  approached  the  mine.  He  felt  that  some  one  followed 
stealthily  behind,  but  he  could  not  turn  to  look.  Some  geni  of  the 
mountain  had  fixed  his  view  to  the  front  and  he  was  powerless  to 
cast  over  his  shoulder  the  glance  which  it  seemed  he  would  have  given 
worlds  to  make.  Courageously  he  .pushed  on  to  the  opening,  on  the 
further  side  of  which  was  the  mine.  He  gained  the  excavation  in  the 
mountain  side  and  peered  within.  The  yawning  shaft  was  dark  as 
ever,  and  when  he  looked  yet  closer,  human  skulls  with  eyeless  sockets, 
and  grinning  jaws  floated  round  its  margin.  Terrified,  he  turned  to 
fly,  when  he  was  caught  in  some  one's  arms,  and  carried  to  the 
heights  which  overlooked  the  village.  His  captor  placed  him  gently 
on  the  ground,  and  looking  up  he  saw  it  was  Laoni. .  He  tried  to 
speak  to  her,  but  she  signed  him  to  silence,  and  pointed  meaningly 
down  the  line  of  the  mountains  which  lost  itself  in  the  far  southwest. 
He  rose  to  his  feet  and  held  out  his  arms  to  embrace  her,  but  she 
withdrew  and  pointed  him  to  his  pony,  grazing  near.  He  hesitated; 
then  turning  resolutely  he  caught  the  girl,  but  she  broke  away  from 
his  grasp,  leaving  in  his  clutched  hand  something  that  emitted  a  soft, 
silver  glow  like  that  reflected  by  the  evening  star.  He  regarded  it 
closely.  It  was  the  medal  hanging  from  its  snowy  beadwork.  He 
raised  his  head  to  look  for  Laoni.  As  he  looked  she  seemed  to  rise 
from  the  ground,  still  pointing  down  the  mountain  range,  and  her 
form  grew  fainter  and  fainter  and  larger  and  larger,  until  it  only 
became  identified  from  the  mountain  mists  by  a  deeper  shade  of  out- 
line. Guy  awoke,  half  oppressed  by  his  dream,  to  find  the  glow  of 
the  morning  and  the  camp  astir. 

The  rising  sun  found  the  travelers  ready  to  mount  to  renew  their 
journey.  The  priest  and  Senor  Gonzales  were  the  first  to  leave.  Guy 
rode  by  the  side  of  Jose.  The  two  mozos  brought  up  the  rear  with 
their  pack-mules.  The  leading  couple  of  the  travelers  rode  for  a 
time  without  speaking.  The  priest  was  evidently  thinking  of  the 
young  American  who  had  so  unexpectedly  joined  them  the  even 
previous,  for  he  broke  the  silence  with  the  remark : 

"Our  young  recruit  appears  to  be  a  most  intelligent  fellow, 


UK' 

tog 
H, 


(Jrv  1  JAY. MO  xi).  ir> 

brightness  and  manners  have  greatly  prepossessed  me  in  his  favor." 
"He  is   doubtless  intelligent.     His   Spanish,   though  wanting   in 
:icc,  shows  the  remarkable  tact  he  possesses  in  acquiring  it  almost 

entirely  from  books.     Intelligence  is  with  him  a  race  characteristic. 

You  know  my  love  for  Americans.     Their  push  and   impudence  but 

augments  my  hatred  for  them.'' 

"But  one  may  dislike  a  race  and  yet  admire  one  of  its  individuals 

for  a  particular  virtue  or  accomplishment/' 

"An   aversion   for  everything   American    has   become    inherent    in 

my    nature.      Perhaps    befojv    another    twelve    month*    the    name    of 

Almonte  will  bo  equally  hated   bv  ail   American   Texans."  , 

* '  #  *  # 

"Jose!  What  distance  is  it  from  here  t-o  San  Antonio?"  asked 
(>uy,  as  (hey  stopped  on  the  brow  of  {he  first  hill  and  awaited  the 
approach  of  the  two  mo/.os.  who  had  been  detained  by  the  slipping 
of  a  pack. 

" father  Ignaeio  said  it  was  about  six  leagues  from  the  San 
Geronimo." 

"Is  that  the  name  of  the  creek  where  we  camped  last  night?" 
ti.-ked  (hiy.  ,  , 

-Si.  senor." 

*  *  #  * 

"That  American  looks  like  a  true  Indian,  with  his  hack  to  us," 
said  one  mo/o  to  the  other. 

"He  is  no  better  than  one  if  he  did  stretch  himself  on  a  fresada 
and  drink  coffee  with  the  padre,"  was  the  reply. 

L\Joso  took  iTiv  moral  t'O  feed  his  Indian  scrub,  and  this  morning 
T  could  not  find  it."  , 

It  was  a  bad  fortune  that  misdirected  Jose's  shot." 

would  have  saved  him  some  trouble  and  me  my  moral.  He  is 
riding  bravely  by  him  now  and  tonight  lie  will  be  fetching  his  supper 
and  water  for  his  bath." 

"Maybe — if  lie  stops  with  the  padre/" 

"That  he  will  certainly  do,  or  it  will  not  be- the  fault  of  Father 
Ignacio.  1  wonder  if  he  will  pav  me  for  my  moral.  If  he  don't 
I'll  keep  this  medal  of  Our  Lady,  which  he  dropped  in  camp.  It  is 

silver  and  will  buy  many  morals." 

"My   noon    the  travelers   hud    reached    the  Ale/an   and   were  on  the 

ntering  the  qnaint-  old    town   of   Moxar.      The  sudden  sound 

bell  rang  clearly  in   the  distance,  striking  slowly  three  distinct 

pen'-.      The  sounds   conveyed    an    admonition.      The   travelers    reined 

fleir  animals  to  a  half,  while  the  priest  and  the  uncovered  Mexicans 

4-r 


GUY  EAYMOND. 

made  the  sign  of  the  cross  and,  with  bowed  heads,  muttered  the 
prayers  of  the  Angelus.  Twice  three  more  peals  of  the  bell  and  the 
chime  succeeded,  when  the  parties  replaced  their  hats  and  again 
moved  forward.  The  dark  walls  of  San  Fernando  rose  stately  above 
the  low  buildings  in  its  vicinity,  while  further  east  the  ornate  front 
of  the  Alamo  was  plainly  distinct.  The  willows  of  the  San  Pedro 
fringed  the  view  with  a  line  of  pale  green,  skirting  the  entire  western 
limits  of  the  place;  and  away  beyond,  on  the  further  side  of  the  swift- 
running  San  Antonio,  were  the  majestic  rows  of  the  cottonwoods  that 
lined  either  side  of  the  Alameda.  The  grim  walls  of  "El  Campo 
Santo,"  around  which  wound  the  road  they  were  pursuing,  were  finally 
reached,  the  San  Pedro  was  forded,  the  military  plaza  was  crossed, 
and  Father  Ignacio  found  himself  at  the  door  of  his  quarters  opposite 
the  south  side  of  the  venerable  old  church. 

"Welcome,  Senor  Raymond,  to  San  Fernando.  There,  in  that  old 
church,  is  where  I  belong.  Here  is  where  I  stay  when  I  am  not 
attending  to  my  spiritual  duties.  Alight,  Senors.  Jose,  take  the 
animals  in  the  yard  and  see  that  they  are  attended  to." 

The  good  father  seemed  elated  with  his  arrival  home  and  wore 
his  most  pleasant  smile  as  he  addressed  Guy  and  Senor  Gonzales  and 
gave  his  order  to  Jose. 

As  he  rode  into  the  town  Guy  began  to  be  impressed  with  the 
fact  that  his  dress  was  most  uncivilized  and  he  could  not  restrain  a 
feeling  of  annoyance  which  the  reflection  caused.  Yet  he  observed 
that  the  garb  of  the  Mexicans  was  of  a  diversity  that  seemed  to 
require  no  particular  style,  and  that  buckskin  entered  more  or  less 
into  the  makeup  of  every  article  of  the  outer  garments  of  the  general 
populace.  In  fact,  diversity  of  apparel  was  so  common  from  the 
ingress  of  Spaniards,  Mexicans,  Indians  and  Americans,  that  no 
notice  whatever  was  usually  taken  of  an  oddity  in  the  way  of  dross. 
Guy,  therefore,  passed  without  comment  to  the  priest's  home,  and  in- 
stead of  proving  an  object  for  the  curiosity  of  the  San  Antonians,  he, 
himself,  was  greatly  amused  at  some  queer  sights  that  greeted  his  exes. 
A  procession  of  donkeys  loaded  with  wood,  a  bundle  of  which  was 
balanced  on  either  side,  moved  along  the  south  of  the  plaza.  Behind 
these  came  three  moving  piles  of  hay,  completely  enveloping  the 
motor  that  propelled  them  along.  A  nearer  approach,  however,  dis- 
closed the  mininutive  hoofs  of  the  same  patient  animals,  upon  whose 
backs  the  grass  was  ingenuously  packed,  covering  their  bodies  and 
heads  and  trailing  to  the  ground. 

He  gladly  accepted  Father  Ignacio's  hospitality.  The  room  into 
which  he  was  ushered  fronted  on  the  narrow  alley  that  separated  the 


GUY  RAYMOND.  47 

from  the  church  and  opened  on  the  sidewalk.  It  was 
apparently  the  priest's  sitting  room,  being  plainly  furnished,  like  all 
Mexican  houses  of  the  better  class,  a  table  and  a  half  dozen  chairs 
constituted  the  furniture.  The  floor  was  of  flagstones,  laid  with  all 
their  natural  irregularities,  but  quite  ingenuously  matched  so  as  to 
leave  no  very  wide  spaces  to  be  filled  with  mortar.  A  plain  crucifix 
and  a.  thermometer  hung  over  the  opening  of  the  fireplace.  No  mantel 
piece  graced  the  latter.  The  cold,  bare  walls  were  unbroken,  save  by 
the  doors,  front  and  rear,  and  the  high,  narrow,  grated  window  that 
o\erlooked  the  alley. 

Senor  Gonzales  paced  the  apartment  in  a  restless  manner,  appar- 
ently paying  little  attention  to  the  young  American,  or  to  the  apart- 
ment and  its  appointments.  He  did,  indeed,  stop  several  times  in 
his  iurns  and  east  glances  through  the  grated  window  to  the  main 
plaza  on  which  fronted  the  church,  of  San  "Fernando.  This  plaza, 
smaller  Mian  the  one  in  the  rear  of  the  edifice,  was  the  mart  of  the 
town,  where  were  the  tiendas  and  vinot'erias;  the  resting  place  of 
the  hay  and  fuel-loaded  burros  in  the  inlorim  of  display  and  sale  of 
the  commodities  they  carried.  Father  Tgnacio  soon  returned  and 
invited  his  guests  to  follow  him  to  the  court  in  the  rear  of  the  apart- 
ment', where  (hey  would  find  water  and  towels  with  which  to  remove 
the  dust  of  travel.  This  invitation,  with  the  announcement  that  later 
they  could  enjoy  a,  bath  in  the  river  or  a  full-length  wash  in  the  tub, 
agreeable  news  to  (Juy,  who  coupled  the  intelligence  with  visions 
of  a  wardrobe  more  consonant  with  his  nationality,  and  which  would 

e  thought,  most  acceptable,  if  obtainable,  when  he  should  cast 
off  his  Indian  toggery  for  the  luxury  of  a.  bath.  The  court  was  a 
square  space  paved  with  flags,  surrounded,  on  all  sides  by  the  walls 
of  apartments  belonging  to  the  residence.  The  portions  on  the  south 
and  east  hoa-ted  of  a  second  story  with  piazzas  overlooking  the  pave- 
ineiii  below.  In  the  center  grew  a  tall  banana  tree,  its  broad  leaves 
over-reaching  half  the  circumscribed  limits  of  the  place. 

P>enoat h  the  eastern  piazza  was  a,  stone  shelf,  upon  which  were  the 
basins,   and    near  by  a    huge   jug  of  pottery    filled    with    water  from 

wift-rumring  Aceqiiia  thai  coursed  along  the  western  side  of  the 
plaza.  Jose,  who  appeared  to  be  the  priest's  right-hand  man,  ap- 

hed  witli  towels,  and  the  guests  proceeded  to  test  the  virtues  of 
limestone  water  and  soap  as  antidotes  for  the  more  visible  evidences 

dusty  journey.     It  was  not  a  great  while  after  their  ablutions' 

nida,  or  dinner,  was  announced  by  the  ubiquitous  .lose, 

who  seemed   to  be  everywhere  and  engaged  in  all  work,  obedient  to 

whose  summons  the  party   repaired  to  the  apartment  across  the  hall 


48  GUY  EAYMOND. 

from  the  sitting-room,  and  found  a  table  moderately  supplied  witl 
dishes  of  Mexican  cookery.  Two  huge  platters,  one  containing  "chile 
con  carne,"  red  with  its  peppery  infusion,  and  the  other  filled  witl 
frijoles,  the  Mexican  national  "bean,  occupied  the  prominent  positions 
wrhile  a  half  dozen  entrees,  unnameable  preperations,  and  a  plate  o] 
smoking  tortillas  were  ranged  in  the  center. 

"Take  that  seat,  Senor,"  said  Father  Ignacio,  pointing  to  the  enc 
of  the  table.  You,  Senor  Eaymond,  occupy  this  one  by  me." 

"Your  cook,  Father,  must  have  anticipated  you  arrival,  since  h( 
lias  gotten  this  dinner  so  quickly/7  said  Senor  Gonzates. 

"Ah  !  There  is  where  you  are  mistaken.  My  cook  did  not  expeci 
n ic  at  all  this  week.  These  dishes  are  from  Senora  Candelario's,  whc 
always  has  something  good  ready  cooked  for  her  customers.  Senoi 
linymond,  let  me  help  you  to  some  of  this  chile  con  carne,  and  frijoles.' 

Guy  passed  his  plate,  which  was  ainuly  supplied  with  the  savory 
compound,  and  the  trio  were  soon  discussing  the  excellence  of  th( 
Candelario's  dishes.  The  entrees  were  duly  tested,  but  found  little 
favor  with  the  American  guest,  who,  nevertheless,  swallowed  the  quote 
each  time  the  test  was  made,  being  determined  to  satisfy  his  curiosity, 
on  the  subject  of  the  Mexican  menu.  The  chile  con  carne  was  a  little 
hot,  and  indeed,  several  other  dishes  he  had  tasted  contained  more  01 
less  strong  infusions  of  the  favorite  pepper.  This  caused  a  longing  foi 
water  to  cool  the  burning  effect  on  his  gums  and  throat,  and  a* 
there  was  none  in  sight  he  signified  to  his  host  that  a  drink  wouh" 
be  most  acceptable.  The  services  of  Jose  were  again  brought  into 
requisition  and  the  water  produced,  supplemented  by  wine  and  glasses 
Guy  eagerly  swallowed  a  couple  of  glasses  of  water  and  felt  inucl" 
relieved.  With  the  subsidence  of  the  burning  he  felt  renewed  courage 
to  taste  the  contents  of  a  very  small  saucer,  which  was  the  only  disl 
of  whose  merits  he  had  not  become  fully  cognizant.  He  therefore 
reached  for  it  and  took  a  small  quantity  on  his  plate.  The  substance 
was  minced  to  a  fineness  that  defied  any  attempts  at  ocular  analysis 
but,  its  inviting  green  color  evidently  relegated  it  to  tho  catogorv  ol 
relishes.  Being  Mexican  it  would  have  been  preposterous  to  doubl 
the  presence  of  pepper;  color  green,  it  must  therefore  be  givon  pepper 
and,  thought  Guy,  "Anybody  can  eat  it  green,  as  the  fiery  property 
culminates  at  maturity  and  then  it  is  essentially  red." 

Emboldened  by  this  assumption,  he  carried  the  entire  quantity 
on  his  plate  to  his  mouth,  feeling,  while  it  was  in  transit,  n  relie! 
that  this  was  the  last  gout  that  the  demands  of  an  acquaintance  witl: 
tho  menu  Mexican  would  require  of  him  for  the  present. 

The  effect  was  terrible.     Color  green?     If  he  was  not  color-blind. 


GUY  KAY.MOND.  -1!) 

then  the  taste  was  rod.  For  it  seemed  to  liini  as  lie  gulped  down  the 
rc/i^/i  that,  nil  the  concentrated  fires  of  an  inferno  had  become  incor- 
porated in  that  saucer  of  verdant  deception.  Water  streamed  from 
lii's  eves.  Strangulation,  hiccough,  prevented  his  frantic  attempt-  to 
drink  for  a  rime.  He  made  his  exit  from  the  room  and  to  Jose  out 
into  the  court.  Senor  Gonzales  was  nonplussed  as  to  what  had  hap- 
pened to  tin-  young  man,  but  the  priest  was  wiser  as  lie  had  witnessed 

act  which  had  caused  the  trouble,  and  notwithstanding  his  sym- 
palhv  for  the  Mifi'erer  lie  could  not  refrain  from  laughing  heartily. 

"What  makes  yon  laugh?  1  think  it  disgusting  that  a  person 
should  so  gorge  himself  as  to  choke  at  table,"  said  Senor  Gonzales. 

"Why,  the  poor  fellow  lias  not  eaten  so  much/'  said  the  priest. 
"He  simply  tried  to  eat  these  minced  chili  ipines  like  he  would  any 
simple  vegetable  and  that  is  what  even  ^Mexican  throats  could  not 
stand.  "I'll  go  and  fetch  him  back;  a  glass  of  wine  will  relieve  him."' 

Guy,  in  a  very  little  while,  had  regained  his  breath  and  supp' 
the  hiccoughs,      lie   laved    his    face   in    the   basin,    and   was   about    to 

mipany   Father    Ignacio   back   to   the  dining  table,  when  he   ]  or- 
!  a  letter  under  the  shelf  on  the  pavement.     Supposing  it  to  be 
one  of  several   that    he  saw  Senor  Gonzales  drop  before  dinner,  and 
which  he  inferred  had  been  overlooked.,  he  picked  it  up.     Tt  was  ad- 
dressed:    "Senor  Fdourdo  Grition,  San  Antonio  de  Bexar." 

On  entering  the  room  he  found  the  senor  sipping  his  wine  and 
looking  abstractedly  across  the  table.  That  worthy  did  not  appear 
to  notice  the  entrance  of  the  others,  until  Guy  addressed  him. 

"Were  you  not,  Senor,  the  bearer  of  this  letter?     I  found  it  just 

.   near  where  you  dropped  the  papers  from  your  pocket." 

Senor  Gonzales  reached  for  the  letter  and.  on  noting  the  super- 
scription, .-i-owled  darkly,  casting  a  look  at  Guy  in  which  were  blended 
inquiry  and  suspicion. 

CIIAITKK  VII. 

of  September,  1836,  found  Texas  ablaze  with  excite- 
ment over  the  relentless  policy  which  the  Mexican  general  govcrn- 
,  impersonated  in  Santa  Anna,  manifested  towards  the  American 
Texa  is  who  had  settled  as  colonists  under  guarantees,  by  the  Federal 
rights  and   immunities  incident  to  citizenship.     San 
at.   that    time  the   headquarters  of  the  military  depart- 
>lonel   rgartacliea  in  command.     The  spirit  of  resistance 
action.-,    and    resentment    for    the    unreasonable    withholding   of 
••    privileges    of    free    government,    which    naturally    accrue,    and 
•'id   keep,   pace  with    the  pmgre.-s  and  population  of  a   free  people. 


50  GUY  RAYMOND. 

had  become  general  throughout  the  State.  The  notes  of  preparation 
for  the  coming  struggle  filled  the  political  atmosphere.  The  appoint- 
ment of  committees  of  safety,  the  secret  accumulation  of  arms,  the 
dispatch  of  messages  to  friends  across  the  Sabine  for  assistance  in  any 
shape,  constituted  initial  steps  of  the  Texans.  The  Mexican  com- 
mandant and  his  superiors  were  not  slow  to  realize  the  brewing  of 
a  storm  and,  while  they  used  all  the  arts  of  pacification  to  allay  the 
suspicions  of  the  turbulent  colonists,  the  Mexican  army  was  en  route, 
in  three  divisions,  with  Texas  the  destination  and  coercion  the  object. 
Through  spies  they  had  singled  out  and  demanded  the  surrender  of 
the  leaders  of  the  war  party,  that  they  might  be  subject  to  the  justice 
of  a  court-martial,  and  the  tender  mercies  of  a  Mexican  military 
official. 

Already  Captain  Castonado  with  a  troop  of  cavalry  had  attempted 
to  remove  a  cannon  from  Bastrop  to  Bexar,  but  had  been  repulsed  by 
the  vigilant  Texans,  and  the  gun  retained.  Other  collisions  between 
the  soldiery  and  the  people  had  occurred  at  Goldad  and  on  the 
coast,  all  of  which  tended  to  draw  the  lines  between  the  military 
authority,  which  in  fact  had  absorbed  the  civil,  and  the  American 
colonists.  San  Antonio  was  therefore  almost  entirely  deserted  by 
the  latter,  the  remaining  few  being  kept  under  the  most  rigid 
surveillance.  When  Guy,  therefore,  later  in  the  afternoon  informed 
Father  Ignacio  of  his  intention  to  go  out  in  the  town  for 
the  purpose  of  disposing  of  his  horse,  saddle  and  bridle,  to  enable 
him  to  purchase  the  clothing  he  needed,  he  was  advised  by  the 
friendly  priest  to  allow  Jose  to  perform  that  office  for  him. 

"Perhaps  he  will  prove  a  better  trader  than  I  am." 

"It  is  not  that  supposition  which  prompted  my  surest  ion,  al- 
though Jose,  from  his  wide  acquaintance,  doubtless  would  be  more 
successful  in  making  a  good  bargain.  But,  my  son,  the  times  are 
growing  troublesome.  Your  people  are  at  outs  with  the  government, 
find  are  looked  upon  with  suspicion  by  the  authorities.  So  you  sec, 
amigo  mio,  I  do 'not  want  you  to  run  any  risk  by  going  out  by  your- 
self; a  stranger  you  know,  just  come  in  town,  will  have  to  produce 
vouchers.  Remain  indoors  today  and  I  will  see  that,  after,  you  can 
go  where  you  please;  of  course,  on  your  parole." 

"What!  Have  I  escaped  from  the  Indians,  only  to  find  myself  a 
prisoner?  But  tell  me,  good  father,  what  you  have  heard  from  my 
people.  Are  they  in  arms  against  the  government?" 

"I  cannot  speak  plainly.  All  I  can  HI  you  is,  ihere  is  trouble 
coming,  and  my  interest  in  you  makes  me  nnxinus  to  have  you  do 
untiling  Hint  could  compromise  your  safety.*-'' 


GUY  RAYMOND.  51 

••As  you  will  then.     Let  Jose  make  the  trade." 

On  the  eastern  side  of  Main  pla/a,  about  midway  of  the  row  of 
shops  and  apartments,  was  an  establishment  common  to  every  Mexican 
town  of  even  limited  size,  and  deemed  by  the  population  as  essential 
as  (lie  church,  the  tienda,  or  even  the  cock  pit.  The  letters  over  the 
door  spelled  the  words  "Monte  Pio,"  the  Spanish  for  pawnbroker. 
The  average  Mexican  would  have  a  much  greater  idea  of  Heaven  if 
ho  believed  it  contained  a  peculiarity  of  this  nature.  To  the  Monte 
I  Mo  he  hies  for  his  stake  to  test  his  fortune  at  the  game  of  monte. 
If  ihci  gnawings  of  hunger  arc  about  to  goad  him  to  desperation,  the 
Montr  IMo  is  often  his  saviour,  by  making  an  advance,  however  small, 
on  almost  any  article  of  jewelry,  dress  or  property,  be  it  the  very 
shoes  from  his  feet  or  the  snaked  sombrero  which  surmounts  his 
cranium.  The  Mexican  Monte  Pio  is  different  from  his  foreign 
brolher.  He  will  accept  the  most  apparently  valueless  things  in  the 
world,  which  may,  by  any  conceivable  chance,  be  made  applicable,  not 
only  to  personal  necessities,  but  to  the  most  inconceivable  eccentrici- 
ties of  taste.  He  is  therefore  a  benefactor;  and  to  the  Aztec  race,  a 
positive  necessity.  Imagine,  for  a  moment,  a  town  in  the  sister 
republic,  boasting  a  few  thousands  or  a  few  hundreds  of  people,  and 
no  Monte  Pio.  Preposterous !  It  may  have  no  church,  nor  a  regular 
Picradilla  stand,  nor  even  a  cock  pit.  But  the  Monte  Pio,  with  his 
dark  apocento,  his  jumble  of  stock,  his  odds  and  ends,  his  indiscrimi- 
nate display  of  toggery,  arms,  jewelry,  spurs,  bedding,  blankets,  som- 
breros and  what  not,  with  his  suave  manners  and  patronizing  style, 
is  an  indispensable  requisite. 

Jose,  on  being  informed  of  the  duty  which  would  be  required  of 
him,  readily  signified  his  willingness  to  render  the  service  to  the 
young  American.  As  major  domo  of  the  popular  priest  of  San  Fer- 
nando, lie  was  known  to  every  man,  woman  and  child  in  Bexar,  there- 
by possessing  an  influence  among  the  ordinary  people  that  was  often 
potent,  where  failure  would  have  attended  efforts  from  more  preten- 
tious sources.  He  held  intimate  connection  with  the  father,  who 
minislered  to  their  spiritual  necessities,  who  entered  into  all  their 
sports,  i-iipouraged  the  parades  on  holidays,  their  furious  riding  on 
"KI  dia  de  San  Juan,"  the  ante-Christmas  lanterns,  the  ludicro- 
dramatic  performance  of  the  pastores,  and  various  and  sundry  cele- 
brations of  fiestas  without  number.  Hence  his  weight  in  the  com- 
munity. He  was  envied  by  the  class  from  whose  ranks  he  was 
drafted,  but  the  feeling  was  dwarfed  by  an  awe  for  the  importance 
of  his  o(li<-<>.  AV  ith  the  Alonto  Pio  he  was  solid,  and  to  be  solid  in 
ihis  direction  was  the  ultimathule  of  the  ordinary  Mexican.  There 


52  GUY  RAYMOND. 

was,  however,  a  purpose  in  this  solidity,  as  there  arc  purposes  in  all 
strong  manifestations  without  the  pale  of  the  affections.  The  purpose, 
of  course,,  was  with  the  Monte  Pio.  His  business,  in  spite  of  the 
role  we  granted  it  as  a  benefaction,  possessed  features  not  in  harmony 
wilh  ethics  prescribed  by  holy  church.  Therefor*1,  to  avoid  the  anath- 
emas of  that  institution  for  possible  and  probably  lapses,  for 
deviations  from  the  perpendicular  of  rectitude,  for  sundry  grinding 
exactions,  amounting  to  positive  oppression,  Jose  was  proj  itiated  ,1! 
all  times  and  on  all  occasions.  Jose  was  near  the  padre.  He  could 
sliflc  complaint.  He  could  smooth  over  report*  and  restrain  per- 
sistence by  iimely  compromise. 

Jose,  therefore,  when  he  found  that  he  had  a  bargain  to  make, 
immediately  thought  of  the  Monte  Pio,  his  refuge  in  all  difficulties 
pecuniary. 

On  the  afternoon  in  question,  a  knot  of  cindadanos  were  grouped 
in  front  of  the  tienda  del  Monte  Pio.  The  characteristic  grave  ex- 
pressions of  the  silent,  apathetic  race  of  which  they  were  individuals, 
were  worn  by  the  faces  of  the  party,  as  they  conversed  almost  in 
monosyllables,  and  ejected  from  lips  or  nostrils  the  curling,  white 
smoke  of  their  ciragetas.  The  plaza  and  streets  were  nearly  do- 
HM'ted  by  the  populace,  most  of  whom  were  still  indoors,  indulging 
in  the  conventional  siesta  or  not  yet  fully  aroused  from  its  lethargic 
influence. 

"I  hear  that  Father  Tgnacio  returned  this  morning."  said  one 
the  group,  to  his  nearest  .companion,  as  he  completed  the  artis 
rolling  of  a  fresh  cigareta  and  motioned  for  a  light. 

"I    sa.w   him    crossing   the    Military    plaza    coming    in.      He    was 
accompanied   by   another  gentlemanly-looking   man,   and    a   curiou 
dressed    fellow,  a  decidedly  Indian  dress  and   a  fair  skin.      I   won 
who  it  could  have  been?" 

"'Where  were  you,  Manuel?"  queried   another.     "I  saw  the  pa 
myself.     They  passed   very  close  to  where  I  was,  and.  if  T  mista 
not.   F  know  the  gentlemanly  fellow.     If  it  was  not  General  Almonte1 
it  was  his  ghost  in  citizen's  dress." 

"Why  should  he  or  his  ghost  want  to  dress  like  a  citizen?  Th 
officers  are  never  guilty  of  being  out  of  uniform.  They  are  as  v 
of  gold  lace  as  a  peacock  is  of  his  tail." 

"Sometimes  it  is  policy  to  travel  without  being  known.     P>osid 
Ml    Ptesedente    may   have   sent    him    on    some   secret   service.      1    saw 
the  same  man,  that  was  with  Father  Tgnacio,  walking  with   Oaptai 
Caslonado,  going  to  headquarters.     I  am  almost  certain  it  is  Almon 

"I  wonder  if  Castonado  informed  him  how  the  Americans  bin 


s 


(it   Y    1». \YMON  I).  .*).'> 

him   at    'Bash-op.      Ho  ought   io  have   his  gold    lace   pulled   ofV.   after 
h  an  expedition/' 

"You  never  tire  of  scoffing  at  our  officers  and  soldiers.  You 
Id  go  and  join  these.  Texan- Americans.  Do  von  know,  Manuel, 
you  are  >d  of  having  sympathy  for  the  other  side?" 

"Let  them  suspect.      I  have  done  nothing  except  to  condemn  mis- 
management  and   cowardice.      1    have  received    and   expect 
from   the  powers  that  he.     They  d   .Juan    Seguin    will)   sus- 

picions until  he  was  driven   to  1!  Let  them  look  to  H 

thai  "Manuel  Pni/  is  not  fore  \amp1e." 

"Tin's  is  hut  the  braggadocio  of  a   would-he  traitor.     Would  you 

in  an  attempt   to  destroy  our  government?" 

"'('all    it   what  you    please.    Sancho,   hul    the  Mexican    who   would 
:er  the  unscrupulous   rule  of   military  satrap?  to  the  blessni 
a    popular  government   si'  tor   that    he   i 

fit   to  have  a  country  to  betray/3 
^ I  lave  you   no  race?" 

"Pride  of  race  can   ii"ver  exist   in   a    race  of   peons.     And   this   i^ 
.ling  to.  under  His  ]  i  El  Prosedento.'1 

ife  will  tell  ns  if  it  was  Almonte." 

The  major  doino  here  rode  up  mounted  on   Guv's  pony,  with  the 
In-idle  and  saddle  that  the  latter  had  captured   in  the  fight  with  the 
.luted  the  bystanders,  all  of  whom  he  doubtless  knew 
h\   name.     They  indo:  urnod  his  salutation  of  "Buenas  t;1 

••ho  having  propounded    i  ion  to  elicit  the  desired    infor- 

'entity   of    S  dismounting, 

led   the  latter  Dame,  looked   wise,  and   placed  his   linger 
his  lips,  as  i!'  to  enjoin  ,-i  discontinuance  of  such  inrpiii- 
Sancho  was  satisfied   with   the   pantomime,   and   turning  to    Unix, 
id: 

''You   see   1    was   right/' 
The  'Monte  Pio  was  just  rising   from  a   siesta   on   the  floor  of  his 

,  having  converted  a   pile  of  hhnikeis  ; 

••  the  purpose  of  taking  his  daily  nap.     TTc  gneted  his  visitor 

pleasantly,    made   particular    inquiry   after   the   health    of   the    padre, 

luse  of  their  delayed  return    from   the  Pio  Grande,  ,-nid 

:!•_.•   MKinv  oth  ('d    hy   their   intimate   relations 

B'  on  have  a  new  horse  and  on!  (he  Moiile  Pio. 

mine.     It  is  about  that    same  horse  and   ouHii 
ioruoon,  amigo  uiio,"  said  Jose,  pu1 
d   liu-htlv  on    the  other's  shoulder  and   looking  (piixxinglv    in 
• 


54:  GUY  EAYMOND. 

••It  is  a  pony  of  good  appearance,  and  the  saddle  lias  been  a  line 
one." 

-1  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,"  said  Jose,  "for  I  have  come  to 
trade  you  the  horse  and  outfit." 

"Well,  in  that  case,  I  will  have  to  look  closer.  It  occurs  to  me 
the  pony  is  pretty  well  alon^-  in  years,  but  I  must  admit  the  silver 
mounting  of  the  saddle." 

"Wha't  will  you  give  for  all?" 

"Knr  ihe  pony,  saddle  and  bridle;  let  me  see — diez,  quinze,  diez,  y 

''Come,  compadre,  what  are  you  talking  about.  I  don't  want  to 
pawn  them ;  I  want  to  sell  them." 

"You  don't  think  I  would  pay  that  much  on  them  in  pawn.  It's 
what  they  are  worth,  that  I  was  calculating." 

"Wo  can't  trade  then.  I  know  Father  Tgnacio  will  be  disap- 
pointed when  I  tell  him  the  miserable  price  you  offered." 

"Is  it  for  the  padre  you  are  making  the  trade?" 

"For  Father  Ignacio  himself." 

"De  veras?" 

"De  veras." 

"Bueno.    What  say  you  to  twenty  pesos?" 

"You  are  getting  stingy,  as  you  grow  richer.  You  had  better 
keep  on  the  good  side  of  the  padre." 

"Better  say  on  your  good  side,  for  Father  Ignacio  is  not  the  one 
to  bo  bribed  by  the  price  of  a  horse.     If  I  have  escaped  censure  for 
certain  piecadillos.  it  is  because  you  stood  between  me  and  him  for 
price.      Come,  JOM>.  name  your  amount." 

Jose,  after  a  moment's  deliberation,  took  the  Monte  Pio  aside  an 
engaged  him  in  an  inaudible  conversation.  After  some  gesticulation 
and  seeming  di (Terence,  they  arrived  at  some  understanding.  The 
pony  was  stripped  of  Iris  saddle  and  bridle,  which  were  brought  into 
the  shop  and  deposited,  while  the  horse  was  led  away  around  the 
corner  of  the  street  next  to  the  river.  The  major  domo,  having  con- 
cluded the  trade -to  his  satisfaction,  left  the  shop  of  the  Monte  Pio  and, 
after  bandying  a  few  words  with  the  men  assembled  around  the  door, 
departed  in  the  direction  of  the  priest's  house. 


GUY  EAYMOND.  55 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

About  midway  between  tlic  plaza  and  the  bridge,  on  the  north  side 
of  M'a in  street,  stood  a  house  retired  a  little  from  the  thoroughfare, 
and  almost  touching  the  hank  of  the  stream  in  its  rear.  In  its  front 
marched,  with  measured  stride,  a  barefoot  soldier  with  a  tattered 
uniform.  His  long  musket  rested  upon  his  shoulders,  its  bright 
bayonet  flashing  in  the  sunlight,  as  he  turned  at  the  end  of  his  beat. 
A  veranda  extended  the  full  length  of  the  building  facing  the  river 
and  separated  from  it  by  a  parterre  of  shrubbery  and  fig  trees.  The 
afternoon  sun  was  casting  shadows  from  walls  and  foliage  over  the 
grounds,  and  upon  the  blue  and  deep  current  that  passed  in  graceful 
eddies  under  the  steep  embankment.  In  a  rude  and  capacious  cage 
of  native  workmanship,  swinging  from  a  limb  of  a  tree  almost  touch- 
ing the  house,  a  mocking-bird  was  caroling  his  wildest  notes,  to 
which  one  of  his  untamed  species  made  answer  from  a  willow  on  the 
further  bank,  under  which  a  lot  of  Mo.xican  women,  washing  clothes 
and.  chattering  ever  and  anon,  formed  a  picturesque  group. 

The  veranda  was  occupied  by  three  men,  who  were  seated  in  ap- 
parent consultation  around  a  table  upon  which  were  papers  and  writ- 
ing material.  One,  a  thin-visaged,  dark-complexioned  man,  dressed 
in  the  uniform  of  a  Colonel  of  the  Mexican  Army,  occupied  the 
central  position.  He  sat  stiff'  and  upright  in  his  chair,  while  his 
features  wore  a  worried  expression  that  gathered  the  deep  wrinkles 
to  his  forehead.  On  his  left,  in  the  uniform  of  a  captain,  was  a 
young  ollirer  of  quite  a  careless  mein,  indicated  by  his  expression 
and  the  easy,  lounging  altitude.  The  third  would  have  been  easily 
nvngni/j'd  by  the  reader  as  the  Senor  Gonzales, . introduced  in  a 
former  chapter,  while  the  traveling  companion  of  Father  Tgnacio. 

!<•  still  wore  the  garb  of  a  civilian,  and  had  lost  none  of  that  im- 
mobility of  countenance  which  seemed  to  repel  all  approaches  of 
familiarity.  The  la. tier  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"This  letter  from  Senor  Gritton  does  not  place  you  in  a  very 
favorable  lij^ht,  as  commander  of  a  responsible  expedition,  Captain 
Castonado." 

''The  opinion  of  a  mere  citizen  amounts  to  little  in  the  case  since 
as  ignorant  of  the  instructions  I  had  to  guide  me.     The  Colonel, 

ere,  gave   me   my   orders,  which  were  to  avoid  all  hostile  collisions 

with   the  people,  and   if  I  could  not  succeed  in  getting  possession  of 

iMiion  by  a  show  of  force,  to  retire  and  await  further  orders." 


v  .as  is 

i 

here, 


1 1. \YMOND. 

"The  Captain  is  correct,"  said  the  Colonel.  "It  lias  ahva 
my  opinion  that  a  pacific  and  liberal  policy  towards  these  colonists 
would  accomplish  what  harsh  measures  could  never  effect.  They  have 
e>  Migrated  from  a  country  where  every  concession  is  made  to  indi- 
vidual liberty  that  is  consistent  with  the  ends  of  mild  and  popular 
government.  This  should  bo  patent  to  you,  General  Almonte,  who 
received  your  education  in  the  United  States." 

"AViih  your  policy  in  force  these  Americans  would  not  only  root 
out  evorv  veslige  of  Mexican  custom-  and  interest,  but  would  soon 
prow  strong  enough  to  threaten  the  States  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Rio  Grande.  "Force,  must  bo  used,  and  that  soon,  to  check  their 
audacity.  General  Cos  will  soon  be  here,  and  he  will  be  followed  by 
(\vo  divisions,  the  last  and  larger  under  the  command  of  Santa  Anna 
himself.  The  President  is  determined  on  subjugation  and,  if  need 
be,  annihilation,  deeming  it  necessary  for  the  security  of  this  territory 
to  the  Republic.  Your  policy.  Colonel  Ugartachea,  is  a  wrong  one 
in  dealing  with  the  kind  of  stuff  the  colonists  are  made  of." 

"If  my  theory  is  wrong  in  practice,  it  is  right  from  a  liberal  or 
republican  standpoint." 

"How  many  names  of  ringleaders  does  Gritton's  list  contain?" 
asked  Almonte. 

"It  is  here  among  these  papers.     You  can  examine  it  yourself." 

AYi'ilc  Almonte — for  Senor  Gonzales  was  no  other  than  the  noted 
staff  officer  of  the  Mexican  dictator — was  looking  over  the  lists  handed 
him,  a  soldier  appeared  and  delivered  a  document  to  the  command- 
ing officer.     Directing  the  messenger  to  retire  and  await  orders,  the 
0]  eued  the  papers  which,  having  read,  ho  passed  to  Almonte. 

"That  means  war,  and  no  mistake,"  said  the  latter.  "I  know  this 
Henry  Smith." 

"The  President  should  be  advised  of  this  move  without  delay. 
and  a  courier  should  bo  dispatched  at  ouco,  with  your  endorsement.0 

"No  need  of  that,  Colonel,"  said  Almonte.  "I  am  to  return  to 
Mexico  myself  within  twenty-four  hours,  and  will  see  Santa  Anna  ns 
soon  as  a  courier  could  reach  him." 

"Your  stay  is  brief." 

"Necessarily  so.  The  object  of  my  mission  here  has  been  more 
lliaii  realized  by  what  I  have  learned.  Here  is  a  communication  For 
Edward  Gritton.  A  reliable  courier  disguised  in  the  doilies  of  an 
ordinary  dii/en  must  place  it  in  his  hands.  T  will  rely  on  your 
judgment  in  the  execution  of  the  matter." 

I'gartachea  took  (lie  letter,  promising  to  have  ii  safely  in  the 
hands  of  the  parly  whose  address  it  bore. 


Grv  1J  Ay  MO  NT>.  57 

\Ve  will  leave  the  officers  to  discuss  (ho  situation,  which  appeared 
to  be  growing  critical  for  Mexican  supremacy  in  Texas.  The  courier 
had  brought  the  news  of  the  action  of  the  council  in  its  issue  of  a 
circular,  designed  to  conciliate  the  Texas  tribes  of  Indians,  of  the 
return  of  Stephen  F.  Austin  from  Mexico,  and  the  warlike  resolutions 
at  Brazoria. 

When  Jose  returned  home  he  found  Guy  just  emerging  from  the 
luxury  of  a  hath,  and  the  clothing  which  the  former  brought  cain" 
in  good  time  for  him  to  try  on.  The  major  dorno  had  indeed  b 
lavish  in  his  selection,  not  only  in  quality  and  style,  but-  in  propor- 
iioiis.  The  first  suit  he  got  hold  of  was  sufnYiently  ample  for  an 
individual  of  exaggerated  corporosity,  and  the  second  and  third  gained 
on  the  first  in  length,  io  compensate  for  shrinkage  in  amplitude.  He 
began,  to  despair  of  a  fit  as  .lost*  re-entered.  The  hitter  gave  his 
-sistance  and  by  their  joint  elTorts,  a  suit  cap-a-pie,  was  found  thai, 
dint  of  a  little  tightening  here  and  a  little  altering  there,  could 
made  to  serve  the  purpose  of  our  hero  until  something  better  could 
accomplished  in  the  i mi  11  or  of  attire. 

"You  don't  look  like  a  Li  pan  any  more,  senor.     Your  hat  is  just: 
thing  and  sets  off  your  handsome  face." 
"Jose,  you  are  a  flatterer." 

"Do  veras ;  you  are  handsome  in  your  new  clothes." 
"It  is  the  clothes  that  makes  the  man,"  said   Guy.     "My  father 
ten  said  that  dress  had   much  to  do  with  our  destiny." 
"Vour  father  was  a  fine  looking  man?" 

"He  was  the  type  of  perfect  manhood,"  snid  Guy,  with  a  sigh,  as 
3mory  recalled  the  last  time  he  had  seen  the  subject   of  their  con- 
ttion. 

''Was  he  smart?"  continued  Jose. 

"Aye,  he  was  a  philosopher.     A   man  whose  life  was  a  period  of 
idy." 

"Like  el  padre,  Ignacio.     lie  always  lias  his  nose  in.  a  hook,  when 
is  not  attending  to  his  church  duties." 

"There,  Jose,  I  think  I  have  put  the  finishing  touch  to  my  dress. 
ie  clothes  are  so  decidedly  Mexican  that  I  could  be  taken  for  one 
of  vour  countrymen.  I  wonder  if  Senor  Gonzalcs  would  know  me 
if  he  met  me  on  the  street." 

"Certainly.  That  face  of  yours,  and  those  locks  of  wavy  golden 
hair  that  any  senorita  might  envy,  would  tell  on  yon." 

"Well,  as'i  have  no  cause  to  disguise  myself,  there  is  little  desire 
to  conceal  my  identity.  I  am.  therefore,  Senor  Jose,  transformed, 
through  the  medium  of  clothes,  from  El  l>ravo,  the  Lipan,  to  Guy 


58  GUY  RAYMOND. 

R;mnond,  the  American,  Mexicanizcd  by  appearances.  I  have  neg- 
lected  to  thank  you  for  thus  advancing  me  several  degrees  nearer  to 
civilization,  or  to  ask  you  about  the  success  you  met  with  in  trading 
off  my  pony  and  saddle." 

"These  clothes  you  have  on  are  a  part  of  the  trade.  In  addition 
I  got  twenty-five  dollars,  which  will  be  at  your  service  in  the  morning." 

"You  are  a  pretty  good  trader,  Jose.  Count  on  five  dollars  of 
that  amount  as  your  own  in  payment  for  your  trouble." 

"Senor  Raymond  is  too  good.    I  did  not  charge  anything." 

"But  you  will  accept." 

"If  you  will  not  tell  Father  Ignacio  that  you  paid  mo." 

"Never  fear,  we  will  keep  our  own  soerois.  While  I  think  of  it, 
Jose,  I  have  lost  something  which  1  highly  prize.  .It  is  a  medal  of 
the  Virgin,  attached  to  a  string  of  fine  beads,  and  belonged  to  an 
Indian  girl  who  saved  my  life.  When  I  left  the  Lipan  village,  this 
girl  gave  me  that  buckskin  pouch,  full  of  dried  venison  and  in  it  I 
found  tli is  medal  I  spoke  of.  She  evidently  intended  it  for  me,  and 
that  I  should  discover  it  after  our  parting." 

"The  girl  loved  you,  then." 

"She  loved  me  too  well,  Jose;  better  than  I  deserved." 

"Most  girls  would  love  Senor  Raymond." 

"Let  us  talk  about  the  medal.    You  have  not  seen  it?" 

"No,  Senor.     When  did  you  see  it  last?" 

"Not  since  the  night  before  I  reached  your  camp." 

"You  may  have  lost  it  then  before  you  joined  us." 

"Perhaps." 

Guy  and  the  major  domo,  continuing  their  conversation,  moved 
to  the  sidewalk  and  took  seats  looking  out  on  the  plaza,  over  which 
the  shades  of  evening  were  falling.  The  population  had  moved  from 
indoors,  and  there  were  a  goodly  lot  of  passers  and  groups  scattered 
here  and  there.  Occasionally  one  or  more  female  figures,  almost 
enveloped  in  capacious  rebosas,  would  pass  out  of  the  church  and 
take  their  way  in  different  directions,  conversing  in  their  musi- 
cal language.  Jose  explained  to  his  companion  many  points  about 
the  actions  and  customs  of  his  people,  that  proved  interesting 
the  listener.  In  reply  to  the  question  if  church  was  going  01 
at  that  hour  in  San  Fernando,  he  explained  that  the  women  he  ha( 
seen  issuing  from  its  portals  had  been  confessing,  ;in<l  that  Fatliei 
Ignacio  had  been  there  all  the  afternoon  hearing  confessions. 

"Do  any  of  the  men  confess  their  sins?"  asked  Guy.  "I  did  nol 
see  one  among  the  number  that  came  out  of  the  church." 

"The  men  do  not  care  much  for  their  souls.     Once  a  year  is  aboul 


GUY  RAYMOND.  59 

"As  with  all  nations,  the  goodness  is  all  in  the  women." 

"The  men  of  our  country  like  fast  living,  fine  horses,  and  to  bet 
at  monte ;  they  have  not  much  time  to  pray." 

"So  much  the  worse  for  them,  I  fear,"  said  Guy.  "For  the  sake  of 
morals  the  uneducated  should  have  some  solrt  of  religion.  I  should 
like  to  see  a  game  of  motile,  as  I  have  read  of  the  passion  your 
countrymen  possess  for  betting  at  it." 

"1 F  Senor  Raymond  wrill  allow  me,  I  will  take  him  to  see  a  game 
tonight." 

"I  will  accept  your  offer.  Jose.  Mere  comes  Kalher  iguacio  from 
ie  cliurcli.  Jose,  I  lie  Father  is  a  good  man." 

'•He  is  a  living  saint." 

CHAPTER  TX. 

Late  on  an  October  aficrnoon,  along  a  prairie  pathway  that  led 
twai'dlv  to  where  a  line  of  scattered  timber  fringed  the  nearer  side 
a  watercourse,  rode  a  solitary  horseman.  Miles  of  valley,  in  un- 
ken  level,  disclosed  naught  beside  (he  golden  waving  grass  glinting 
the  sunlight  and  Humps  of  mosquito-  here  and  there,  lending  variety 
the  vista.  Opposite,  the  bold  hills  impinged  upon  the  stream  and 
rked  its  course  by  the  red  border  which  periodical  torrents  had 
nrn  to  precipitous  banks.  The  ambling  gait  of  the  pony  swayed  the 
ider  in  easy  motion  from  side  to  side,  keeping  perfect  time  to  a 
nuiniious  nasal  sound  oF  a  Mexican  song  that  issued  in  low  notes 
m  his  lips: 

"Yo  no  soy  de  aqui,  soy  de  Carecel, 

Solo  me  devierto,  con   mi  pi  to,  real. 

Ksio  pilo,  real,  Yo  me  lo  halle 

Si  yo  no  lo  gusto,  yo  lo  vcndere." 

glances,  to  the  left  and  rear,  were  cast  occasionally  by 
his  dark  eyes,  from  under  the  broad  brim  of  his  sombrero.  The 
jogging  pace  of  the  animal  at  length  brought  him  to  a  deep  gully, 
that  dived  below  the  surface  and  coursed  away  towards  the  run. 
deepening  and  widening,  until  lost  in  the  level  forming  the  wide, 
dry  bed  of  the  stream.  Suddenly,  quickening  his  pace,  he  urged  his 
animal  into  the  depression,  and  soon  horse  and  rider  became  lost  to 
view. 

:  e,  Ducio!     There  is  a  horseman  beyond,  and  he's  coming  from 

picious  direction." 
"Where?" 


(JO  <<l'V    1J  AYAIOXI). 

"Across  ilic  creek.     Have  ye  no  eyes,  man?" 

"I  see  him  now.     He  is  a  greaser,  too." 

"As  if  that  was  so  hard  to  make  out !     Stop  hack  here 
l.-t  him  see  us.  uniil  lie  gets  closer.     Do  ye  mind?" 

"I  don't  see  him  no^w.  He  must  be  in  one  of  those  big  waslies.  He 
disappeared  just  as  yon  spoke." 

"He  got  a  si glit  of  yon  ;  that's  what's  the -matter.  You'd  he  a  bother 
on  any  scout.  Yon  are  too  slow,  man.  When  I  told  ye  to  come  hack" 
out  of  sight,  ye  should  ha'  moved." 

"What's  the  di (Terence,  Mr.  Trigg?  If  yon  want  to  get  to  close 
quarters  with  him.  we  can  do  so,  whether  he  sees  us  or  not." 

"What  do  ye  know  about  close  quarters?  If  it  was  an  open  sea 
and  ship  and  ship  the  lightest  heels  would  win.  Uose  quarters  if  it 
\vas  wanted.  But  in  these  gulleys  and  hiding  places  ye  might  have  a 
race  horse  and  it  wouldn't  do  no  good  in  overhauling  a  greaser  Unit's 
out  of  sight.  Ye  should  obey  orders,  man." 

"If  you  will  remain  here  I'll  bet  you  the  best  league  of  land  in 
'Texas  I  will  bring  yon  that  fellow  in  thirty  minutes." 

"You've  got  so  many  leagues  of  land  to  bet  away  and  it's  been  a 
bare  month  or  six  weeks  that  ye  cmne  to  Texas,  and  wid  more  brass 
in  yer  face  than  money  in  yer  pocket." 

"IVrass  is  sometimes  the  very  best  kind  of  capital,  and  often  suc- 
ceeds where  money  and  modesty  would  go  to  the  dogs." 

"Well,  well  !  Maybe  you  are  right,  but  let  us  ride  for  that 
Mexican,  and  see  what  he's  after  doinir,  coming  from  the  course  lie 
did." 

One  of  the  spe.ikers  was  a  man  of  middle  age,  and  powerful  build, 
the  other  younger  ami  of  light  figure,  but  athletic  mould.  The  former 
had  a  light  ruddy  complexion,  suited  to  the  nationality  which  his 
brogue  betrayed.  The  latter  was  dark  almost  to  swarthiuess  which. 
with  his  physiognomy,  indicated  a  genealogy  that  had  toi'.-hed  upon 
the  dubious  bounds  of  some  race  darker  than  Caucasion.  The  two 
men  had  been  resting  under  a  tree  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the 
creek  towards  which  the  "Mexican  was  approaching,  while  their  sad- 
dled horses  grazed  near  at  hand.  They  wore  scouts  sent  out  froi* 
Force  of  Toxnns,  encamped  on  the  Cibolo  creek,  under  Ihe  command 
of  Stephen  F.  Austin.  The  younger  had  seen  the  Mexican  disappear 
in  the  gully,  as  has  been  learned  from  their  conversation.  The  two 
were  not  long  in  filling  their  saddles  and  setting  out  at  a  rapid 
for  the  creek,  distant  a  hundred  yards  or  so.  The  elder  took  a 
course  to  intercept'  1he  Mexican  below  the  gully,  while  he  who  was 
called  Ducio  by  his  companion,  went  towards  a  [joint  above. 


GUY  RAYMOND.  61 

At  a  distance  not  exceeding  four  miles  above  the  spot  where  Mr. 
Trigg  and  his  companion  had  observed  the  strange  horseman,  across 
the  arroyo,  and  situated  on  the  margin  of  the  same  run,,  was  a  mott 
of  timber  skirting  the  crescent  bank  of  a  waterhole,  made  by  the 
sudden  deepening  of  the  bed  of  the  creek  and  the  consequent  reten- 
tion of  its  waters,  which,  in  dryer  seasons,  sought  the  rocky  strata 
lying  beneath  its  sands.  Opposite  the  grove,  the  banks  rose  to  the 
proportions  of  a  bluff,  contrasting-  with  the  easy  slope  that  ascended 
through  the  timber  and  terminated  in  the  open  prairie,  where  the 
bright  silver  of  the  horizon  shone  cheerily  through  the  foliage.  A 
more  picturesque  location  could  not  have  been  chosen  for  an  encamp- 
ment, for  here  was  cooling  shade  and  water,  fuel  for  light  and  cook- 
ing, protection  by  the  circling  bluffs  and  stately  pecans,  from  wind 
and  storm,  while  out  upon  the  plain  the  tall,  rich  grass  made  a 
wealth  of  pasturage.  It  was  not  then  strange  that  here,  on  this 
October  afternoon,  we  should  find  groups  of  men,  wagons  and  graz- 
ing animals.  The  first  were  scattered  here  and  there  in  every  con- 
ceivable occupation,  or  in  no  occupation  whatever.  The  wagons,  two 
in  number,  stood  where  the  timber  touched  the  opening,  while  the 
horses  were  beyond  on  the  prairie,  secured  by  rope  or  hopple.  A  single 
wall  tent  occupied  a  central  position,  facing  the  opposite  highland, 
and  gave  additional  shelter  to  numerous  and  indiscriminate  articles 
which  were  disclosed  by  the  raised  sides  of  the  canvas.  Several  fires 
through  the  wood,  each  of  which  formed  a  nucleus  for  a  group  of 
men,  sent  up  columns  of  smoke,  denser  where  the  green  fuel  resisted 
the  struggling  flame,  and  light  and  blue  where  the  blazes  rose  and 
crackled  through  dryer  twigs.  The  absence  of  almost  all  appliances 
for  camping,  save  those  essentials  which,  however  rude  and  impro- 
vised, must  follow  the  frontiersman  and  constitute  his  paraphernalia, 
for  all  occasions  and  uses,  would  have  been  noticeable  to  an  observer 
studying  the  personnel  of  the  camp  and  endeavoring,  from  their  sur- 
roundings and  equipments,  to  pronounce  their  intent,  or  unravel 
any  mystery  their  presence  might  suggest.  The  men  were  Americans, 
in  the  sense  of  a  Saxon  origin,  and  were  evidently  Texan  colonists, 
in  the  verbiage  of  the  Mexican  federal  statutes,  which  defined  their 
rights  as  well  as  their  duties  to  the  central  government.  They  were 
a  hardy,  careless-looking  set,  embracing  all  ages,  from  beardless  youth 
up  to  the  years  when  the  furrowed  brow  and  sprinkled  gray  above  the 
temples  tell  that  the  vigor  of  manhood  but  resists  the  encroachment 
of  time.  The  pioneers  of  civilization,  they  descended  a  step  or  two 
below  its  piano,  from  sheer  gravitation  towards  the  wilder  influences 
of  i  novel  situation,  devoid  of  many  restraints  imposed  by  social  order. 


r>-r 


62  GUY  RAYMOND. 

The  nearest  fire,  as  Ilie  camp  would  be  approached  from  the  south,  was 
surrounded  by  a  party  whose  hilarity  and  occupations  did  not  suggest 
any  great  degree  of  gravity  in  the  expedition  that  had  called  them 
afield,  or  that  apprehensions  of  a  serious  movement  was  in  contem- 
1  lation  calculated  to  termination  in  disaster  or  dearly  earned  success. 
Over  the  coal?,  all  aglow  beside  a  fallen  tree,  hung  two  quarters  and 
a  saddle  of  venison,  which  two  men  were  tending,  while  a  third, 
wah-liing  their  operations,  sat  upon  the  im  ignited  portion  of  the 
trunk.  Near  by,  on  the  spread  surface  of  a  highly  colored  Mexican 
blanket,  four  others  were  engaged  at  cards.  From  these  came  fre- 
quent ejaculations,  with  occasional  biu'sts  of  laughter. 

"Don't  you  see  that  meat  is  burning  on  this  side?  Two  cooks 
for  that  little  quantity  of  meat  ouiiht  to  keep  it  from  charring  like 
that." 

"Why  didn't  you  say  it  was  burning  sooner?  You  have  been 
sitting  there  on  that  log  looking  straight  at  it,  and  kept  your  mouth 
shut,"  said  one  of  the  men  who  was  tending  the  meat. 

"It  is  something  newr  to  charge  Jones  with  keeping  his  mouth 
shut."  said  the  other  cook. 

"He  /hasn't  talked  much  since  the  elephant  story,"  replied  his 
comrade. 

"What  elephant  story?" 

"That  is  a  fact,  Perry,  you  were  on  the  scout  the  day  Jones  gave 
us  the  elephant  story." 

"The  last  one  I  heard  him  tell  was  that  one  about  fleas.  He  took 
a  big  thing  to  lie  about  this  time,"  said  he  who  was  addressed  as  Perry. 

"Oh  !  Jones  believes  in  jumping  from  one  extreme  to  the  other, 
tends  to  diversify  his  romancing." 

"What  in  thunder  could  he  have  to  say  about  elephants?" 

"Why,  he  related  that  while  he  was  in  the  service  of  the  E 
India  Company,  he  was  walking  out  one  day  in  the  jungles  at  the 
foot  of  the  Hymalayas,  when  ho  came  to  a  bridge  crossing  a  river,  and 
while  he  was  seated  there,  eight  hundred  elephants  ran  across  it  at 
full  speed." 

"What  a  whopper!" 

"Couldn't  a  man  see  elephants  crossing  a  bridge?"  asked  Jones. 
"I  don't  see  anything  very  strange  in  that.     I  have  heard  you 
w^orse  yarns  than  that,  Perry." 

"Must  have  been  a  powerful  bridge,"  said  Perry.  "Why,  y 
numskull!  Don't  you  know  that  eight  hundred  soldiers  crossing  a 
bridge  without  breaking  step  would  shake  it  up.  OJ'  course  you 
stood  there  and  counted  the  elephants.  Why  didn't  you  tell  some- 


>ry. 

: 


teli 
vori 


GUY  RAYMOND.  03 

more  probable?  Fir  instance,  that  you  saw  that  cow  of  yours, 
which  used  to  give  two  gallons  of  milk  out  of  each  teat,  jump  over 
the  moon." 

"Oh,  give  him  a  rest.  The  boys  rode  him  on  a  rail  for  telling 
that  elephant  story." 

"I  don't  ask  you  to  plead  for  me,  Mr.  Tip  Hamilton,  and  imiy 
he  you  will  he  sorry  yet  for  ihe  part- you  took  in  that  same  mil-riding." 

"Oh,  Oli!  lie  is  threatening  me,  hoys.  You  simpleton,  "i \\-\\* 
Ducio  who  led  the  lynchers.  1  did  the  laughing;  it  excited  my  risi- 
bility." 

"And  Mr.  Ducio  Halfen  will  have  to  settle  for  it,"  conl  itmed 
Jones,  doggedly. 

"The  Jones  is  growing  dangerous,"  said  Hamilton.  "He  will 
constitute  a  ]  halanx  when  we  join  issue  with  the  Mexican-.  Here 
comes  Ducio  and  the  noble  Trigg.  As  I  live!  They  lead  a  scion  of 
II ic  Aztecs." 

"They've  got  a  Greaser,"  exclaimed  several  voices,  as  the  party 
rode  info  camp,  the  Mexican  between  them.  A  crowd  soon  gathered 
about,  ibe  prisoner,  who  sat  stolidly  returning  the  glances  of  his  cap- 
tors  while  they  indulged  in  a  multitude  of  expressions  and  badinage, 
in  regard  to  himself  and  the  cause  he  was  presumed  to  represent. 

"(Jcnls!     Perhaps  he  is  envoy  extraordinary  and  minister  pleni-_ 
potentiary    from    the    veritable    Sauty    himself,    oll'ering    us    the    olive 
branch,  conditioned  by  our  return  to  our  homes,"  said  Tip  Hamilton. 

"Tf  he  is  a  spy,  the  only  branch  we  will  have  any  use  for  is  the 
(  10  right  over  bis  head,"  said  another. 

Mr.  Trigg  here  interposed  and  directed  the  prisoner,  who  had 
dismounted,  to  follow  him. 

The  ca.j  lure  of  a  plain  Mexican  was  no  very  important  affair, 
especially  as  in  the  present  instance,  the  object  of  such  sudden  interest 
\\as  apparently  a  ranchero  of  the  type  and  dress  of  an  ordinary 
herder.  His  appearance  would  have  caused  but  little  notice,  bad  not 
a  rumor  gone  the  rounds,  traceable  to  Ducio  Halfen  as  authority,  that 
important  documents  had  been  found  on  the  person  of  the  fellow. 
The  men,  grouped  about,  discussed  ibe  capture,  a  few  following  Mr. 
Tri<r<r  and  bis  charge  towards  the  wall  tent,  where  sal  several  men 
who  had  been  partaking  of  the  evening  meal.  Tip  Hamilton,  in  his 
grandiloquent  way,  was  entertaining  quite  a  crowd  and,  by  intimation 
of  a  grave  importance  attached  to  the  documents  taken  from  the  Mex- 
ican, lent  tenfold  interest  to  the  a  (fair  in  the  minds  of  his  hearers 
The  truth  was  Tip  knew  no  more  than  the  reader  of  the  prisoner  or 
of  a n\ thing  taken  from  his  possession.  He  was  a  character  that 


64  *•    GUY  RAYMOND. 

stood  boldly  out  in  the  individuality  of  the  camp.  He  was  large  in 
person,  quite  good  looking,  and  seemed  to  be  well  informed  on  any 
subject  .that  would  arise  in  conversation  with  his  fellows ;  and  was 
inclined  to  so  amplify  as  to  exceed  all  reasonable  bounds  and  draw 
in  matter  far  from  germane  to  the  original  discussion,  but  so  blender! 
by  graudal  and  insensible  shades  of  differences,'  as  to  render  his  digres- 
sions pardonable  if  noticed  at  all.  His  pedantry,  so  manifest  in  his 
language,  would  have  elicited  a  contempt  from  the  more  intelligent 
of  his  comrades,  had  it  been  severed  from  his  inimitable  manner  and 
facial  expression. 

To  auditors  not  blessed  beyond  the  rudiments  which  constitute  an 
avoidance  of  .illiteracy,  Hamilton  was  so  far  a  conundrum,  as  his 
language  would  veil  his  meaning  in  mysteryy.  He  was  an  adventurer, 
like  many  who  bar!  left  their  State  behind,  to  seek  in  the  new  .fiolrl 
the  something  that  persistently  refused  to  turn  up,  notwithstanding 
long,  patient  days  of  waiting  in  the  old  haunts.  His  education  was 
due  to  a  remarkable  memory,  more  than  to  express  application  in  hi? 
school  days,  and  he  retained  what  had  been  acquired  despite  an  indo- 
lence only  half  overcome  by  parental  injunction. 

The  world  has  many  such.  The  Southern  States  had  many  ex- 
amples of  superficial  acquirement,  as  was  exemplified  in  Tipton  Ham- 
ilton. Perry,  whom  Jones  had  taunted  with  a  possession  of  his  own 
infirmity,  was  not  wholly  guiltless.  The  advantage  rested  with  the 
former,  inasmuch  as  he  kept  more  or  less  within  the  bounds  of 
probability,  while  Jones,  in  his  drafts  upon  the  imagination,  had  no 
thought  of  the  result,  which  even  a  lax  application  of  reason  to  hiss 
statements  would  produce.  Perry  was  a  stripling,  nearly  of  age, 
brave  when  led.  He  was  of  a  good  Kentucky  family  which  had  sev- 
eral sons  in  the  colony  all,  like  Perry,  venturesome  and  marked  by 
characteristic  generosity  which  this,  the  youngest  scion,  carried  to 
extremes.  He  would  not  have  hesitated  to  bestow  upon  another  the 
only  article  or  the  last  cent  he  possessed. 

He  of  the  vivid  imagination  was  in  citizenship  cosmopolitan,  by 
his  own  testimony,  but  saw  the  light  first  under  the  cross  of  St. 
George  and  by  the  comity  of  nations  would  be  entitled  to  British 
protection.  No  known  portions  of  the  globe  that  he,  had  not  visited 
or  could  not  relate  some  story  about.  His  penchant  for  ;n  vent  ion 
had  become  a  byword  in  the  camp.  Jones  was  held  in  special  aversion 
by  Ducio  Halfen  on  account  of  a  yarn  spun  at  the  expense  of  the  dark 
Creoles,  of  whom  the  latter  was  a  true  type,  in  which  the  inference 
to  be  drawn  was  that  African  blood  was  responsible  for  the  hue  of 
their  complexion. 


GUY  EAYMOND.  65 

Dneio  doubtless  owed  his  color  to  the  source  indicated,  as  there 
is  an  unnameable  something  which  tells  of  the  admixture  in  every 
real  instance.  But  that  the  blood  of  Ham  courses  in  th3  veins  of 
all  dark-skinned  natives  of  French  or  Spanish  colonies  cannot  be 
granted,  inasmuch  as  European  contact  with  other  dark  races  Las 
left  behind  a  progeny  who  claim  the  appellation  "Creole."  JJucio 
may  have  been  ignorant  of  the  facts  of  his  birth  or  family  antece- 
dents, or  he  may  have  chosen  to  deny  a  lineage,  when  to  admit  it 
would  have  placed  him  under  the  social  ban.'  At  any  rate,  he  fiercely 
resented  the  implication  and  vented  his  spleen  by  actively  assisting 
to  ride  hip.  traducer  on  a  rail. 

Dueio  Half  en  was  a  rascal,  and  his  character  was  as  wanting  in 
the  elements  of  honor  and  honesty  as  his  name  was  devoid  )f  euphony. 
TTc  had  made  his  appearance  in  Texas  in  company  with  Familton  and 
together  they  had  joined  the  volunteers  previous  to  their  coming  to 
the  present  camp  on  the  Cibolo. 

The  momentary  excitement  caused  by  Mr.  Trigg's  arrival  with 
his  prisoner  subsided  when  the  latter  was  dismissed  from  the  head- 
quarters under  charge  of  the  guard.  Evening  closed  into  darkness 
broken  here  and  there  through  the  camp  by  the  failing  glow  of  the 
fires.  As  the  night  grew  apace,  the  sounds  became  fewer;  the  low 
laugh  and  voices  in  conversational  tones  soon  gave  place  to  the  sentry's 
tramp,  the  neigh  of  a  horse,  or  the  march  of  a  guard  relief,  and  the 
Toxan&  slerrt. 


,,„ 


CHAPTER  X. 


ten  Mr.  Trigg  brought  his  prisoner  to  that  portion  of  the 
camp  where  stood  the  tent,  he  found  himself  in  the  presence  of  the 
party  which  had  just  finished  their  repast,  and  whose  attention  be- 
came directed  to  him  as  lie  approached  with  his  charge. 

"Who  have  we  here,  Mr.  Trigg?"  asked  one  of  the  party  who 
sat  with  his  hands  clasped  in  front  of  him,  while  the  thumbs  made 
nervous  revolutions  around  each  other. 

"We  caught  this  Mexican  about  three  miles  below,  on  the  creek, 
and  as  he  failed  to  satisfy  me  that  lie  was  on  right  business,  I  brought 
him  to  carnp.  'These  letters  were  in  a  pocket  sewed  on  the  inside  of 
his  shirt." 

"A  suspicious  circumstance,"  said  the  other. 

."That's  what  I  thought,  CJeiieral,"  replied  Mr.  Trigg,  handing  ihe 
iHl.-rs  to  him  he  called  (Jeneral.     The  latter  took  the  documents  and. 


G6  GUY  KAYMOND. 

after  looking  at  the  address  and  the  seals  on  the  opposite  sides,  t\ 
one  carelessly  over  to  the  man  by  his  side,  who  read  deliberately: 

"Senor  Edward  Gritten,  San  Antonio  de  Bexar." 

"What  do  you  think  of  it,  Fanning 

"The  name  adds  to  the  suspicion,  but  the  contents  will  doubtless 
explain  everything." 

"We  will  examine  the  contents  after  a  while.     I  will  interrogate 
the  fellow  and  hear  what  he  has  to  say  for  himself." 

"Mr.  Trigg,  bring  your  prisoner  nearer,   General  Austin  wan  is 
to  question  him,"  said  Fannin. 

The  Mexican  approached  when  ordered  and  the  general,  after  a 
i'r\v  moment's  consultation  with  Fannin,  addressed  him  in   Spanish. 

"Where  are  you  from  ?" 

"Casa  Blanca." 

"\Vliereis  Casa  Blanca  ?" 

"It  is  the  rancho  of  Don  Jnnn  Seguin." 

"How  far  is  that  from  here?" 

"About  six  leagues." 

"Where  did  yon  got  this  letter?" 

"Don  Juan  gave  it  to  me." 

"For  what  purpose?" 

"To  give  to  some   American   who   might  be   passing  cast,  to  take 
to  the  man  to  whom  it  is  written." 

"Did  you  have  any    particular  business  out  here  other  than 
delivery  of  this  letter?" 

"Si,  senor." 

"What  was  it?" 

"Hunting  two  horses  that  have  been  missing." 

"Why,   Mr.    Trigg,   that's   pretty   straight/   Did   he   tell   you 
same  story?" 

"Yes,  General,  but  this  man   is  fixed  up  for  the  occasion.     He 
no  ranchero." 

"Open  the  letters,   General,  and    then1  will   bo  no  need   of  moi 
quesi inning,"  said   Captain   Fannin.     "This   fellow  knows  that  Ju; 
Segnin  is  a  friend   of  our  cause  and   his  idea  is  that  the  seal   of 
private  letter  from  him  to  that  address  will  bo  sacred  to  us.     (Irition 
is  a  suspected  man  and  even  if  llicrc  cxisied  a  strong  probability  that 
Soguin   is  the  sender  of  this  letter,  the  gravitv  of  the  present  aspet 
of  affairs  would   warrant  us   to   make  ourselves   acquainted    with 
contents." 

"You  are  right.     My  idea  was  the  same,  but  1    preferred  to  ha1 
your  expressed  opinion,  before  acting  in  the  matter." 


GrY 

So  saving.  General  Austin  broke  the  seal  of  one  and  then  of 
the  other,  and  glancing  along  the  lines,  his  expression  scarcely 
changed  until  every  word  had  been  scanned,  when  a  light  smile 
played  over  his  features,  as  he  passed  the  papers  to  the  other  officer. 

"Mr.  Trigg,  you  will  please  see  that  this  man  is  closely  guarded." 

Trigg  was  ahout  to  turn  away  with  his  Mexican,  when  the  General 
called. 

"Hold!     Did  you  find  nothing  else  on  the  prisoner?" 

"I  did;  this  silver  medal  and  beads  were  in  his  pocket." 

"Just  keep  it,  Mr.  Trigg.    It  is  of  no  importance." 

M  r.  Trigg  placed  the  trinket  in  his  pockets  and  conducting  the 
Mexican  to  another  part  of  the  camp,  turned  him  over  to  the  guard. 

When  the  two  officers  were  left  alone  they  entered  the  tent,  where 
Hie  General  carefully  read  over  the  letters;  then,  folding  and  placing 
UKMM  in  his  pocket,  he  remarked: 

"This  places  Gritton  where  he  properly  belongs — among  our  ene- 
mies—and  his  position  emphasized  by  a  stigma;  for  lie  is  really  the 
spv  of  the  Mexicans." 

"He  must  not  be  allowed  to  escape,  but  I  fear  it  is  too  late  to 
apprehend  him,  as  he  was  to  have  set  out  for  the  coast  some  time 
I  his  week.  I  will  write  to  San  Filipe  and  if  you  will  be  good  enough 
in  select  a,  reliable  man  from  vour  command  as  messenger,  I  will  he 
obliged." 

"I  have  the  very  man  in  my  mind,  who  will  fill  the  bill,"  said 
Captain  Fannin,  leaving  the  tent. 

Stephen  F.  Austin  had  been  encamped  but  a  day  or  two  on  the 
C  bolo  with  his  band  of  a  few  hundred  Texans,  when  the  rapture  of 
the  Mexican  by  Mr.  Trigg  occurred.  His  presence  with  such  a  force 
(•(institutes  a  page  of  Texas  history  and  was  a  forerunner  of  tragic 
scenes  and  deeds  which,  culminating  at  San  Jacinto,  made  the  name 
<>!'  Texan  soldier  the  synonym  of  valor  and  the  realization  of  reckless 
daring.  'The  reader  will  have  recognized  one  of  the  letters  whose 
contents  divided  the  detention  of  the  Mexican,  as  the  same  which 
Guy  I'avmond  found  at  the  priest's  house  and  returned  to  Senor 
Gonzales,  who  had  dropped  it.  The  presence  of  the  silver  medal, 
taken  from  the  prisoner,  will  perhaps  be  made  clear  in  the  progress 
of  our  story. 

Austin /was  waiting  in  his  present  position  for  reinforcement-  and 
supplies  before  making  further  movements  inward  the  investment  of 
San  Anionio,  whew  General  Cos  had  arrived  and  was  preparing  for 

igorous  defense. 

After   Mr.  Trigg  had  been   relieved  of  the  custody  of  Hie   Mexican, 


68  GUY  RAYMOND. 

he  repaired  to  his  mess  with  the  intention  to  rest  his  limbs,,  made 
weary  by  a  long  day's  scout.  Trigg  was  a  hale  and  hearty  Irishman, 
not  more  than  fifty,  and  consequently  in  the  prime  of  a  sound  man- 
hood. He  had  seen  service,  however.  What  particular  adventures 
he  had  met  with  were  not  known  to  many,  and  perhaps  to  none  of 
his  present  comrades.  He  was  rather  reticent  when  the  boys  were 
spinning  yarns,  although  he  had  related  some  few  tales  of  the  sea, 
which  he  seemed  to  have  followed.  In  these  stories,  however,  he  would 
not  place  himself  as  the  hero,  nor  even  as  a  witness,  evading  all 
questions  of  his  listeners  as  to  his  connection  with  the  incidents 
related.  His  mess  had  great  respect  for  him,  and  always  spoke  of 
him  as  Mr.  Trigg. 

The  first  three  characters  introduced  to  the  reader  as  engaged  in 
conversation  over  the  roasting  venison  belonged  to  his  mess,  as  did 
also  Ducio  Halfen.  The  latter  was  no  favorite  with  him,  although 
he  expressed  his  feelings  no  further  than  to  repel  any  familiarity  on 
his  part.  For  Jones  he  entertained  a  good-humored  contempt,  while 
he  was  amused  at  Hamilton  and  liked  Perry.  The  latter  was  awake 
when  Mr.  Trigg  sought  his  blanket,  and  tried  to  draw  his  friend  out 
on  the  subject  of  the  capture;  but  his  curiosity  was  good-naturedly 
resisted,  with  an  injunction  to  go  to  sleep  and  he  would  tell  him  the 
whole  story  on  the  morrow. 

"Don't  be  so  curious,  my  boy;  it's  tired  I  am  now,  and  talkh 
will  disturb  our  neighbors/' 

"I  just  wanted  to  know  something  about  the  silver  'medal  y( 
found  on  him,"  pleaded  Perry. 

"Who  was  telling  you?" 

"Tip  Hamilton  saw  you  show  it  to  General  Austin." 

"Tip  is  the  devil's  own;  he  is  always  knowing  too  much." 

"He  only  said  that  he  saw  it." 

"Well,  it's  only  a  medal  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  hung  to  a  string 
beads." 

"Which  virgin  is  that,  Mr.  Trigg?" 

"You  young  heathen!     Not  to  know  who  the  Blessed  Virgin  is. 
Sure,  she's  the  holy  mother  of  the  Saviour,  and  it's  her  picture  thai 
on  the  medal." 

"What's  the  good  of  it,  Mr.  Trigg?" 

"It's  a  keepsake,  and  if  it  is  blessed  by  n  priest,  it  is  fine  to  w< 
around  your  neck  to  keep  harm  away  from  a  man." 

"I  never  heard  of  that  before,"  said  Perry,  wonderingly. 

"Because  it's  a  heathen  you  are." 

At  this  point  of  the  conversation,  the  tall,  dark  figure  of  a 

in    front  of  11m  (lying  embers  close  at  hand,  and   the  voice 


GUY  HA  YAK)  \D.  c.!) 

of  Captain  Fannin  called  to  fhe  senior  of  the  two,  in  an  underiono: 

"Is  that  you,  Captain?" 

"Mr.   Trigg,"  responded  the   Captain,  "I  want  young  Perry   to 
go  on  courier  duty  at  once.    Where  is  he?" 

"Eight  here,  sir,"  replied  Perry,  rising  as  he  spoke.     "Where  am 
I  to  be  sent?"  ' 

"You  will  get  your  instructions  at  headquarters.     Come  imme- 
diately." 

"All  right,  Captain,"  said  Perry,  "just  as  soon  as  I  get  my  shoes 
on." 

"I  wonder  what  they  want  me  for?"  he  asked  of  Mr.  Trigg,  when 
the  Captain  had  disappeared. 

"You  will  know  soon  enough,  my  boy." 

When  Perry  was  about  to  leave  the  other  said  to  him : 

"Perry,  come  back  here  before  you  leave  camp.     If  it  is  going 
where  I  think  you  are,  I  want  to  send  a  message  by  you." 

Perry,  stating  that  the  nature  of  the  duty  awaiting  him  necessi- 
tated his  return  to  get  his  saddle,  blanket  and  bridle,  left  to  got  his. 
orders.  When  he  entered  the  tent,  the  general  and  his  subordinate 
were  sitting  by  a  rough  box,  on  which  lay  a  package  which  the  former 
scaling  with  a  piece  of  wax,  ignited  from  a  dim  tallow  candle 
whose  feeble  light  threw  flitting  shadows  on  the  canvas.  When  he 
had  completed  the  operation  he  turned  to  the  youth  and  asked: 

"Are  you  well  acquainted  with  the  country  between  here  and  San 
Filipe?"  " 
.    "Every  mile  of  it,  sir." 

"Got  a  pretty  good  horse?" 

"He  is  a  pony,  but  fat  and  well  winded." 

"When  can  you  be  in  San  Filipe?" 

"It  is  one  hundred  and  eighty  miles." 

"About well?" 

"Uv  changing  horses  once,  in  three  days." 

"Can  you  get  a  change?" 

"I  can  at  Season's,  on  Peach  Creek." 

"Take  this  package  and  deliver  it  to  (iovornor  Smith   as  soon   as 
yon  can.     Be  discreet;  fell  nobody  your  business  or  destination." 

"Can't  I  tell  Mr.  Trigg  to  what  place  I  am  going?" 

"Tell  no  one/ 

"But— 

"Xo  huts,  sir!     Captain,  we  have  got  hold  of  the  wrong  man." 

"Nro!  general/'  rejoined  Perrv,  swelling  up  nf  Mio  refleciion.     "If 

orders   not  to  toll,  torture  wniTf   wring  it  from  mo." 

--.Mil  thai   sounds  more  like  ii."  Oneral  Austin  said.     "Now,  sir. 


70  GUY  RAYMOXD. 

show  what  metal  you  are  made  of.   Stay — the  countersign  is  'VelascoV 

Perry  was  rather  mortified  that  he  could  not  reveal  to  Mr.  Trigg 
his  destination,  as  he  understood  that  his  friend  wanted  to  send  a 
message  by  him,  provided  he  was  going  to  the  right  place.  He  was 
rather  moody,  therefore,  when  he  returned,  and  Mr.  Trigg  asked  him 
if  he  was  to  go  to  San  Felipe. 

"You  must  not  be  angry  with  me,  Mr.  Trigg.  The  general  said 
I  could  not  even  tell  you." 

"He  is  particular!  Well,  my  boy,  obey  orders  if  it  costs  you 
friends,  and  true  friends  won't  be  out  with  you  long,  when  it  is 
found  that  you  have  done  your  duty." 

"If  you  have  anything  to  say  to  me  I  can  listen  to  you,  and  if  by 
any  chance  it  comes  in  my  power  to  serve  you  while  I  am  gone,  I  can 
do  so,  no  matter  where  I  have  been  ordered  to." 

"Go  fetch  your  horse,  my  boy,  if  it's  to  he  quick  you  are,  and  I'll 
study  the  matter  over  while  you're  gone." 

While  Perry  was  gone  for  his  pony,  Mr.  Trigg  rose  and  chunked 
the  fire,  adding  a  few  twigs  to  make  it  bla/e.  Then  unrolling  an 
extra  blanket,  which  had  been  serving  him  for  a  pillow,  be  took  from 
the  inside  fold  a  small  wallet  fastened  with  strap  and  buckle.  This 
lie  undid  and  drew  forth  some  papers,  which  he  inspected  by  the  dim 
firelight.  Selecting  one  and  laving  it  aside,  be  replaced  the  others, 
and  from  another  pocket  took  something,  and  holding  it  up  for 
moment's  scrutiny,  put  it  with  the  paper. 

"I'll  send  it  to  the  child  and  the  good   mother  whose  image 
bears  will  take  her  under  her  protection  while  I  am  away." 

He  spoke  the  words  in  an  undertone,  as  the  medal  with  its  string 
of   snowy    heads   was    deposited    with    the   letter,    for   such    was    tl 
paper  be  had  taken   from  the  wallet.     By  a  better  light  the  h< 
handwriting  of  the  address  would  have  disclosed  the  name  of 

"Stella  Raymond." 

Mr.   Trigg,  having  replaced  his  roll   of  blanket,   seated   hiinsel 
and  leaned  his  bead  forward  on  his  hands  above  the  glowing  coals, 
which  seemed  to  invite  him  to  rumination. 

The  consuming  element  at  his  feet,  so  typical  of  life  in  its 
mutations,  set  him  to  musing.  Perhaps  he  had.  in  youthful  antici- 
pation, felt  the  little  flame  of  hope  that  began  to  grow  in  si/e  and 
hrigbtness  as  the  kindling  of  ambition  had  been  supplied  to  feed  it 
still  higher.  How  it  had  increased  to  a  vivid  light,  and  then  become 
suddenly  checked  by  the  green,  incombustible  fuel  of  mistaken  judg- 
ment or  misplaced  confidence,  and  had  shrunk  away  beneath  the 
fumes  of  disap)  ointment,  or  the  blinding  smoke  of  despair.  Often 
by  unremitting  efforts  the  bla/e  is  re-established  at  the  expense  of 


ITS. 

.; 


Grv 

humid  eyes  and  bitter  experience^  resulting  in  the  cheery  glow,  endur- 
ing for  a  time,  perhaps  for  a  long  period,  then  failing  slowly,  imper- 
ceptibly, until  the  ruddy  coal?  have  paled,  and  we  think  and  wonder. 
;,nd  while  yet  we  wonder  the  dying  embers  become  cold,  dead  ashes. 

Whatever  may  have  been  his  reflections,  Mr.  Trigg  gave  vent  to 
an  occasional  sigh,  as  his  gaze  was  riveted  to  the  fire,  and  he  re- 
peal edly  in u tiered  to  himself.  He  finally  arose  and  peering  through 
the  darkness,  rendered  more  impenetrable  from  his  long  gaze  at  the 
bright  coal?,  he  said,  half  audibly: 

"What  can  the  youngster  be  after  doing — staying  this  long?" 

Perry  had  been  absent  nearly  an  hour,  and  his  friend  had  become 
really  anxious  to  know  the  cause  of  his  delay,  when  the  sounds  of 
horse's  hoofs  were  followed  by  Hie  appearance  of  the  subject,  of  his 
though  is,  mounted  bare-back. 

"I  thought  yon   would   stay  the   night   out." 

"I  began  to  think  that  way  myself/'  said  Perry.  "My  pony  pulled 
his  stake,  and  F  had  to  hunt  for  him  among  all  the  other  horses.  In 
this  darkness  it  was  no  easy  matter,  and  he  was  a  mile,  nearly,  from 
where  I  left  him." 

"(let  ready,  my  boy,  and  be  oil'.  There  is  a  bit  of  broad  and  some 
meat  in  the  can.  left  over,  which  will  keep  you  from  hunger  unlil 
you  can  do  better." 

Perry,  naturally  active,  stood  ready  for  departure  in  a  very  few 
minutes.  He  was  examining  the  priming  of  his  rifle,  when  the 
attention  of  both  was  attracted  by  the  sound  of  footfalls,  as  if  some 
one  was  cant  iouslv  moving  towards  them.  After  a  hail  from  the  older. 
in  a  low  tone  of  voice,  the  same  sounds  wore  heard,  as  if  some  one 
retreating,  and  Porrv  was  quite  certain  he  distinguished  the 
lo  'in  of  a  pel-son  moving  oil'  in  the  direction  whence  he  had  jusi  come. 

"Mr.  Trigg,   I  believe  (hat   was  Ducio  Halfen." 

"Not  from   ihe  looks  of  him.  in   this  darkness/' 

"No,  sir,  but,  when  I  passed  the  lines,  going  for  my  pony,  there 
was  no  sentinel  on  post.,  at  which  I  thought  very  strange.  When  I 
came  back  I  Miein  challenged  me  and  I  gave  him  the  countersign.  Ho 
pretended  that  I  did  not  have  the  right  one.  and  kept  me  several 
minutes,  and  while  detaining  me,  he  did  his  best  to  find  out  what  I 
was  up  to.  Of  course,  I  could  not  toll  him,  and  I  believe  he  followed 
me  here  t'o  find  out  what  I  refused  to  toll." 

-Was  it  him,  that  was  off  post?" 

"Yes,  for  the  relief  wont  'round  just  before  I  loft  here^  and  the 
round  has  not  been  made  jet.'3 

"I'll  -peak  privately  to  the  Captain  and  have  the  fellow  watched. 
It'-  lilt  le  use  I  have  for  him." 


Grv  RAYMOND. 

"Now.  my  boy."  continued  Mr.  Trigg.  "I  don't  ask  where  it  is 
vouVe  going,  and  if  I  knew  it,  it  would  be  safe  in  my  breast.  bur  I 
more  than  suspect  what  you're  going  for,  and  want  you  to  take  thi< 
note  and  this  medal,  and  if  San  Felipe  is  the  place,  you  can  deliver 
them  to  my  little  girl.  It  is  only  tonight  that  I  thought  about  send- 
ing it,  and  I  said  nothing  about  it  in  the  note.  Tell  her  to  wear  it 
around  her  neck  for  the  sake  of  her  old  friend,  and  the  Blessed 
Mother  will  be  good  to  her,  even  if  she  don't  belong  to  the  Holy 
Church,  which  is  all  the  worse  for  her.  I  want  her  to  send  me  an 
answer  by  you.  Perry,  and,  my  boy,  I  want  you  to  see  her  all  you 
can.  and  tell  me  all  about  her  when  you're  back;  do  you  mind?" 

"Certainly.  Mr.  Trigg— that  is.  if  I  go  to  San  Filipe." 

"Before  you  come  back  we  will  be  after  moving  out  of  this  to  the 
Salado  or  the  San  Antonio;  and  it  is  quite  likely  we  will  tackle  the 
( i  reasers  thereabouts." 

"Good-bye.  Mr.  Trigg." 

"Good  luck  to  you.  my  boy." 

"He's  a  bravo  lad,"  mused  Mr.  Trigg.  as  Ferry  disappeared.  "If 
he  was  of  a  more  careful  way  and  knew  how  to  manage  better  for 
himself,  I'd  like  to  see  her  take  a  fancy  to  the  youngster.  But  P-MTV 
would  squander  a  million  in  a,  month,  and  give  away  his  soul  for  the 
asking." 

CHAPTER  XI. 

"Look,  Stella!     What  a  sunset!" 

"Oh!     Isn't  it  lovely?" 

"Those  blending  of  shades  and  colors  are  too  artistic  to  appear 
natural.  It  is  a  wonder  we  did  not  notice  it  in  its  earlier  stages." 

"For  a  very  good  reason.     We  were  facing  the  east  while  sitting 
under  that  tree,  and  I  was  so  taken  up  arranging  those  grasses 
I  thought  of  nothing  else." 

The  sunset  was  indeed  beautiful.  A  broken  cloud  of  clmco 
hue  stretched  along  the  western  horizon,  touching  the  earth, 
denser  shades,  while  on  its  summit,  in  long-reaching  fragments,  di- 
verging from  a  common  center,  lines  of  vapor  reached  the  very  zenith 
ther  side  in  strange  regularity.  The  pern-Mings  of  the  deeper  shade 
were  lost  insensibly  B&  they  mounted  the  blue  empyrean  and  mingled  in 
the  fanciful  shapes  which  lined  the  outer  edges  and  reflected 
golden  background.  Amber  shreds,  unravelled  from  the  texture 
iloating  cloudlets,  crossed  blue  patches,  here  and  there  disclosed,  ill 
gave  place  in>ensibly  to  crimson  tints  interspersed  with  threads  <>\ 
gold.  From  below,  in  one  grand  blaze  of  beauty,  shaming  the  r 


GUY  KAYMOND.  73 

ance  of  Aurora,  the  great  orb  poured  a  flood  of  golden  splendor  ilia! 
lent  magnificence  indescribable  to  the  shifting  foreground.  The 
western  prairie  glowed  with  the  reflected  hues  from  its  patches  of 
gray  and  lingering  green,  interspersed  with  clusters  of  tall,  rank 
i' Hisses,  whose  yellow  tufts  nodded  gracefully  before  the  evening 
breeze.  Mottes  of  timber,  some  verdant  in  their  perpetual  evergreen, 
some  half  denuded,  half  clad,  in  autumnal  garb,  filled  the  eastern 
'view.  One  of  these  half  concealed  a  house,  built  of  logs  and  boards 
rived  with  froe  and  maul  from  the  native  growth,  and  the  remainder 
of  a  fence  whose  zig-zag  course  stretched  a  half  mile  or  so  until 
again  lost  in  the  chaparral. 

The  speakers,  whose  conversation  commenced  the  present  chapter, 
were  two  females.  One  apparently  in  that  indeterminate  age  that 
defies  conjecture,  and  the  other,  who  was  addressed  as  "Stella/'  a  giV!, 
perhaps  fourteen,  of  light  build  and  of  lithe  and  graceful  form.  Her 
hare  head  disclosed  a,  wealth  of  golden  hair.  In  her  arms  she  carried 
a  collection  of  dry  grasses,  their  fuzzy  yellow  and  brown  heads 
arranged  in  bunches. 

"Aunt  Ida,  there  comes  someone  on  horseback,"  said  Stella,  point- 
ing a  little  to  the  right  of  the  direction  they  had  been  facing. 

"I  see  him,"  responded  the  other.  "Now  he  is  hid  by  that  bunch 
of  small  growth." 

"There  he  is  again,"  said   Stella.     "He  is  loping  his  pony." 

"Suppose  we  go  back  towards  the  house.  It  may  be  a  prowling 
Mexican.  If  he  is  a  friend  he  will  doubtless  stop  at  San  Felipe  over 
night." 

"I  am  quite  certain  it  is  not  a  Mexican;  but  we  will  not  wait 
hero  if  you  think  it  better  not  to  do  so." 

The  horseman  overtook  them  before  the  house  was  reached,  and, 
reining  up  his  jaded  pony,  touched  his  hat  respectfully. 

"If  I  am  not  mistaken,  the  very  lady  I  want  to  see,"  he  said, 
looking  directly  at  Stella. 

"Want  to  see  me?  Has  anything  hap ?  Do  you  come  from 

Mr.  Trigg?" 

"I  am  not  his  messenger.  Miss  Stella,  for  I  now  recognize  you  ; 
hut  1  have  a  letter  I  promised  to  deliver." 

"T^o  bad  news.  I  hope.     Is  it  from  him?" 

"Not  a  bit  of  bad  news  had  he  to  write,  rhat  I  know  of.  He  was 
well  when  I  left  him  in  camp,  twelve  miles  this  side  of  San  Antonio. 

e's  the  letter.     I  must  see  the  Governor  at  once,  and— 

"Haven't  I  seen  you  before  sir?" 

'Ton  have,"  answered  Perry,  blushing  under  the  coat  of  dust  that 
covered  h;  -'but  I  didn't  expect  you  to  recognize  me  in  this  fix." 


74  (irv  RAYMOND. 


"But  I   can't  reim-mber  your  name." 

"Asbury  —  Terry,'  as  you  heard    Mr.  Trigg  call  me.     I  was 
him  when  he  last  parted  from  yon." 

"I  remember  you  now/"  Stella  said,  coloring  slightly  at  the  recol- 
lection of  a  little  pleasantry  of  her  guardian  on  that  occasion,  en- 
joining Perry  to  not  fall  in  love  with  her. 

"This  is  my  Aunt  Ida." 

Perry's  bowed  acknowledgment  of  the  honor  of  the  introduction 
over,  he  touched  his  hat  rather  awkwardly  and  turned  his  pony's 
head  down  an  open  lane  which  their  present  location  disclosed  and 
on  which  fronted  three  or  four  houses,  similar  in  appearance  to  the 
one  heretofore  described,  constituting  the  remainder  of  the  settle- 
ment of  San  Felipe.  To  one  of  these  Perry  made  his  way  to  deliver 
the  dispatches  entrusted  to  him  on  leaving  the  Cibolo. 

Stella  did  not  wait  until  she  gained  the  house  before  opening  her 
letter,  and  soon  after  the  messenger  had  left,  was  deep  in  its  contents. 
Her  Aunt  Ida,  as  she  had  just  denominated  her  companion,  quietly 
seated  herself  on  one  of  the  blocks  composing  the  steps  of  the  stile  in 
front  of  the  dwelling  and  awaited  the  conclusion  of  her  reading. 

"Well,  what  news,  Stella?"  she  asked,  as  the  letter  was  dropped 
from  before  the  girl's  face,  disclosing  a  troubled  look. 

"Mr.  Trigg  says  I  am  to  go  to  New  Orleans  to  school." 

"That  is  not  such  bad  news." 

"No." 

"Then  why  your  serious  look?1' 
.   "He  wants  rne  to  go  to  a  convent." 

"I  suppose  he  hopes  to  convert   you  to  his  religion." 

"No,  I  think  not.     At  least,  lie  does  not  want  to  influence 
although  he  would  like  me  to  become  a  Catholic." 

"In  a  convent  you  would  be  sure  to  have  influence  enough." 

"I  would  not  mind  any  influence  (hey  could  bring  to  hear  on  n 
I  am  strong  enough  in  my  father's  opinions  to  be  proof  against  any- 
thing that  would  not  be  for  my  good." 

"I  know  very  little  of  them,  but  have  always  heard  that  the  mi 
were  very  pious  and  good  women.     When  are  you  to  start?" 

"Here  is  the  letter.     See  what  you  think  of  it  all." 

Mr.  Trigg,  who  had  constituted  himself  the  guardian  of  Sle! 
Raymond  ever  since  the  massacre  on  the  Salado,  had  written  to  his 
ward  quite  a  lengthy  letter,  for  him,  in  which  he  detailed  his  plans 
for  her  future.  He  wrote  that  he  intended  to  prove  a  guardian 
worth  having;  that  he  was  possessed  of  ample  means  in  give  her  an 
education  worthy  of  her  superior  and  lamented  father,  and  being 


GUY  RAYMOND.  75 

determined  to  remain  with  the  volunteers  until  the  approaching  con- 
flict with  Mexico  would  terminate.,  as  he  hoped,  in  success  to  the 
colonists,  lie  had  decided  that  she  should  accompany  her  aunt  on 
her  return  to  Mississippi.  Tho  latter  was  to  leave  her  in  a  convent 
in  Ne\v  Orleans,  where  it  was  his  wish  for  her  to  remain  until  the 
compleiioii  of  her  education.  Tie  had  forwarded  a  letter  of  credit 
in  \c\v  Orleans  for  her  benefit  ;  also  a  communication  to  the  Mother 
Superior  of  the  Convent  of  the  Sacred  Heart,  with  whom  he  was 
personal  I  v  acquainted.  Stella  had  become  very  fond  of  the  man  who 
had  protected  tier  ever  since  that  fearful  dav  when  she  had  fallen, 
terror-stricken  at  the  sight  of  the  Indians  surrounding-  her  burning 
home. 

The  letter,  sent  by  Perry,  contained  the  first  intimation  that  her 
benefactor  was  the  possessor  of  means  sufficient  to  educate  her  at  a 
boarding  school,  and  while  disappointed  in  the  location  of  the  latter, 
she  was  prepared  io  obey  him  in  every  particular.  Her  father  had  taken 
a  liking  to  the  rough  Irishman,  whom  he  had  first  met  at  the  head- 
quarters of  the  colony,  and  who  had  accompanied  him  to  the  beauti- 
ful, hut  ill-fated  spot  on  the  Salado.  She  had  heard  it  stated  that 
Mr.  Trigg  had  invested  in  land  to  an  extent  that  had  rendered  him 
impecunious  and  had  necessitated  a  resort  to  manual  labor  to  secure 
the  means  for  a  livelihood.  Hence  the  reader  found  him  at  work 
for  Paul  "Raymond  at  the  opening  of  this  story. 

AVhen  her  aunt  had  finished  reading  the  letter  she  remarked  to 
Stella,  that  she  deemed  her  to  be  most  forunate  to  be  able  to  escape 
from  a  country  so  rough  and  go  to  a  metropolis  celebrated  for  its 
weilth.  refinement  and  gaiety. 

"But  I  shall  carry  with  me  the  heaviest  of  hearts,  for  then  all 
hope  of  ever  seeing  poor  dear  Guy  again  will  be  shut  out  forever." 

"You  are  wrong  there,  my  dear  child.  Tf  your  brother  is  living 
he  will  know  your  whereabouts  from  friends  here  and  will  not  fail  to 
join  you." 

tvi\lr.  Trigg  has  always  said  that  he  was  positive  of  his  having 
been  iaken  captive,  and  was  equally  sure  that  he  would,  some  day, 
escape.  But  I  have  suspected  that  his  words  were  intended  to  calm 
my  fears  for  my  brother's  safety." 

Stella's  trembling  voice  and  brimming  eyes  brought  silence  to  the 
two.  A  few  moments  sufficed  to  bring,  crowding  in  masses,  the 
incidents  of  years,  as  her  busy  mind  and  sorrowing  heart  actively 
took  in  the  past,  now  that  distance  threatened  to  postpone  the  hope 
of  meeting  with  her  brother. 

Her  averted  face  concealed   the  emotion  from  her  aunt,  who  sat 


76  GUY  EAYMOND. 

humming  a  low  air,  as  was  her  custom  when  occupied  with  the  solu- 
tion of  a  question.  She  was  thinking  of  Stella's  destination  and  of 
what  a  splendid  opportunity  her  neice  would  have  in  the  great  city 
of  making  a  fine  matrimonial  match;  not  only  on  account  of  her 
beauty,  which  it  was  apparent  would  become  greatly  enhanced  as  she 
would  approach  maturity  and  blossom  into  perfect  womanhood.  Then, 
the  letter  in  her  hand  certainly  stated  that  the  self-constituted  guar- 
dian had  means  which,  if  not  sufficient  to  make  his  ward  an  heiress  of 
importance,  would  place  her  in  an  enviable  position  of  independence. 
She  somewhat  impatiently  remembered  that  Mr.  Trigg  had  decided 
on  a  convent.  Of  all  places  a  convent  was  the  least  calculated  to 
produce  a  "showy"  girl,  one  calculated  to  take  in  society  at  the  mo- 
ment of  her  debut. 

Stella's  aunt  was  a  woman  of  the  world;  had  blossomed  from  a 
fashionable  boarding  school  and  remembered  well  the  contrast  between 
her  own  powers  of  attraction  and  the  quiet  demeanor  and  subdued 
manners  of  one  of  her  contemporaries  who  had  emerged  from  the 
precincts  of  a  convent.  She  could  not  account  for  the  stupidity  of 
people  who  failed  to  profit  by  experience  in  such  matters. 

The  lady's  reverie  was  arrested  by  the  reappearance  of  Perry, 
who  had  almost  joined  them  in  the  fading  twilight,  without  having 
been  perceived.  He  was  afoot  and  without  a  coat. 

"Why,  Mr.  Asbury!  You  performed  your  mission  in  a  hurry. 
Have  you  gotten  through  with  the  Governor  already?"  asked  the  lady. 

"He  was  not  at  home.  He  went  with  a  party  across  the  river  and 
has  not  yet  returned.  I  hastened  back  to  bring  this,  which  I  forgot 
to  deliver  with  the  letter." 

Perry  held  up  the  medal  as  he  spoke  and  placed  the  trinket  in 
the  hands  of  Stella. 

The  latter  examined  it  in  surprise  and  gave  Perry  a  look  of 
inquiry. 

"He  said  for  you  to  wear  it,  Miss  Stella.     It  is  something  t' 
belongs  to  his  religion,  and  he  believes  it  will  keep  one  from  harm." 

"Such  superstition!"  exclaimed  the  lady. 

"I  wore  it  inside  my  coat  until  I  gave  it  away,  and  then  I  placed 
it  in  the  pocket  of  my  waistcoat.  I  had  the  medal  convenient  and  m 
case  of  danger  would  have  tried  what  virtue  there  was  in  it." 

"It  is  a  medal  of  the  Virgin,"  said  Stella,  examining  it  closely 
in  the  dim  light.  } 

"And  I  suppose  you  are  quite  ready  to  accept  all  the  t\vad<ilo 
about  the  efficiency  of  these  medals  as  a  prelude  to  you  conversion  fit 
tin-  Sacred  I  [cart,"  said  her  aunt. 


GUY  RAYMOND.  77 

"Let  us  go  in  to  the  light  and  examine  it,  Auntie.  Mr.  Trigg 
can  believe  what  he  pleases.  I  will  preserve  it  as  a  curiosity." 

The  party  ascended  the  steps  to  the  hall,  turned  to  the  left  and 
enterd  a  room  in  the  middle  of  which  stood  a  table,  spread  for  a 
meal.  Plain,  rawhide-bottomed  chairs  composed  the  rest  of  its  fur- 
niture,, while  a  bright  light  shone  from  the  tall  chimney-piece  at 
the  further  end.  Stella,  after  examining  the  medal  and  its  .string 
of  beadwork,  expressed  her  satisfaction  by  putting  the  latter  over 
her  head  with  the  former  pendant  on  her  breast. 

The  appearance  of  the  hostess  called  their  attention  to  the  supper 
table,  on  which  she  was  placing  dishes,  their  tempting  odors  filling 
the  apartment  and  whetting  the  appetite  of  Perry,  whose  ride  had 
prepared  him  to  do  justice  to  his  next  meal.  Eecognizing  the  latter 
when  she  entered,  the  landlady  invited  him  to  remain  to  supper. 

"I  did  not  expect  to  stay  to  supper,  Mrs.  Morgan,"  said  Perry. 
"I  returned  to  bring  Miss  Stella,  this  medal,  and  am  without  a  coat. 
Going  to  table  withoi  ,  a,  coat  will  make  no  difference  at  the  tavern, 
but  here " 

"Oh,  that  will  make  no  difference  with  us  either.  You  are  a 
soldier-boy  now,  and  they  are  not  always  expected  to  have  coats." 

"I  believe  Mr.  Asbury  did  say  that  he  had  given  his  coat  away, 
before  we  came  indoors,"  said  Stella,  giving  him  a  side  look  of  inquiry. 

"Perhaps  that  involves  a  story.  Come,  Mr.  Perry,  have  you  been 
phiying  good  Samaritan?"  asked  the  aunt. 

"I  met  a  poor  fellow  who  was  sick  and  shirtless,  except  a  tattered 
rag  over  his  shoulders,  and  I  gave  him  my  Coat.  A  sudden  norther, 
in  his  fix,  would  have  settled  him." 

"Such  an  act  entitled  YOU  to  dine  with  princes  in  your  shirt 
sleeves,  my  good  boy,  and  always  bo  smv  of  your  welcome  here,*'  said 
the  hostess. 

CHAPTER  XII. 

The  next  morning's  sun  had  peeped  above  the  landscape  and  sent 
his  beams  stealthily  through  the  crevices  of  Stella's  apartment,  rosiing 
on  the  coverlet  of  her  bed  or  dancing  on  the  opposite  wall,  as  the 
mellow  light  was  swayed  by  the  movements  of  the  window  curia  in. 
fluttering  in  the  breeze  that  poured  through  under  the  slightly  raised 
sash.  A  golden  beam  kissed  her^  cheek  and  forehead,  then  stealing  to 
her  eyelids,  woke  her  suddenly.  Half  rising,  she  looked  around  with 
a  startled  expression,  then  sinking  again  to  her  pillow,  she  said: 

"Oh  !     I  was  dreaming." 

"What  dreaming  about,  Stella?"  asked  her  aunt,  whose  bed  r-he 
shared. 


78  GUY  EAYMOND. 

"About  my  brother  Guy.     I  dreamed  the  Indians  had  him  boun:!, 
ready  to  burn.     I  saw  the  lighted  pile  on  which  he  was  to  suiter. 
Suddenly  a  girl,  with  wings  like  angels  are  pictured  to  wear,  came 
and  hung  about  his  neck  the  medal  that  Perry  brought.     Instantly 
his  hands  became  free  and  he  defied  his  persecutors,  and  while  th 
Indians  stood  around  dismayed,  the  girl  took  him  under  her  pro 
tion  and  the  two  seemed  to  rise  gradually  in  the  air,  until  their  di 
taut  forms  became  blended  with  the  clouds." 

"The  medal  was  filling  your  mind  when  you  went  to  sleep;  hence 
your  dream." 

"It  was  my  brother  rather,  of  whom  I  was  thinking.  I  always 
think  of  him  when  I  lie  down  at  night," 

Stella's  aunt  was  such  by  affinity  only.  She  had  married  the 
brother  of  Paul  Eaymond,  a  wealthy  speculator  of  Mississippi,  who 
had  died  and  left  his  widow,  Ida  Eaymond,  the  possessor  of  ample 
means.  She  was  a  woman  of  gay  disposition  and  mourned  her  hus- 
band but  a  short  time.  Handsome,  childless  and  wealthy,,  she  had 
received  much  attention  in  a  society  upon  which  she  was  unsparing 
of  her  smiles  and  means.  News  of  Paul  Eaymond's  fate  had  reached 
her  and  anxious  for  the  safety  of  the  sole  surviving  daughter  of  her 
husband's  brother,  she  had  accompanied  her  own  brother,  Clarence 
Lambert,  to  Texas  a  short  time  previous  to  her  introduction  to  the 
reader. 

"When  will  Uncle  Clarence  return,  Auntie?"  asked  Stella,  as  she, 
already  dressed,  sat  watching  her  aunt  doing  up  her  toilet  at  the 
ten-by-twelve  looking-glass  suspended  to  the  wall. 

"The  Lord  only  knows,  child.  He  is  perfectly  infatuated  with 
this  wild  country  and  will  never  stop  until  he  has  traversed  every  foot 
of  its  soil.  It's  terrible  to  have  to  make  one's  toilet  in  such  a 
hovel !  Just  contrast  this  wretched  little  glass  with  my  full-length 
mirror !" 

"I  do  wish  Uncle  Clarance  would  come  back.     If  I  have  to 
it  is  better  to  have  it  over  with." 

"We  won't  wait  for  him  if  he  is  not  here  to  return  by  the  schooner 
that  brought  the  volunteers — bless  me!  What  a  glass  to  dress  by." 

"If  you  go  by  the  schooner,  Auntie,  it  will  be  well  to  get  ready,  fo 
I  heard  she  will  sail  right  soon." 

"The  Governor  is  to  let  me  know,  child.     He  will  send  a  special 

messenger  to  New  Orleans  on  her there!     I've  got  those  eyebrows 

smoothed  to  suit  me  at  last.     What  a  relief  it  will  be  to  get  back  to 
UK-  comforts  of  civilization."  « 

"And  a  uuod  mirror,"  su<juvsi<><]  Stella,  laughing. 


Guv  "RAYMOND.  7!) 

"Yes,  a  good  mirror,"  returned  her  aunt,  with  a  half  reproachful 
tone  and  look,  which  betrayed  a  suspicion  that  Stella's  remark  and 
manner  contained  a  reflection  upon  her  excessive  primping. 

"Would  Uncle  Clarance  like  it  if  we  were  to  go  without  him  ?v 

"I  could  not  help  his  likes.  He  has  no  business  to  be  gone  so 
long.  He  came  to  invest  in  land,  and  it  seems  he  is  so  hard  to 
please  that  he  must  ride  over  half  a  continent  to  suit  himself  in  a 
few  thousand  acres.  The  Governor  told  the  simpleton  thai  the  lirazos 
lands  were  the  finest  in  the  country." 

"I  do  liope  the  Indians  won't  hurt  Uncle  Clarance." 

"It  would  serve  him  half  right  to  meet  with  some  misadventure — 
I  declare!  Your  collar  is  all  awry,  my  child.  Fix  it  and  let  us  «>•<-. 
out  to  breakfast." 

"So  ii,  is,"  said  Stella,  going  over  to  the  little  glass.  "You  know, 
Auntie,  you  monopolized  the  mirror,  and  I  had  to  primp  without  one." 

"That's  a  great  mirror!  Don't  forget  to  write  your  letter  to  Mr. 
Trigg  this  morning  so  that  man  can  take  it  back  with  him.  And 
YOU  had  better  ask  him  to  change  his  mind  about  putting  you  in  a 
(•on vent,  if  you  ever  want  to  have  any  accomplishments.  They  do 
not  know  how  to  teach  music,  and  a  girl  is  so  cut  ofT  from  ihe  world 
that  she  does  not  know  how  to  act  or  make  a  good  appearance  in 
society.  If  you  want  to  be  a  religieuse,  why  a  convent  is  the  place 
lor  you,  for  religion  enters  into  two-thirds  of  their  curriculum.  Have 
I  loo  much  powder  on  my  face?" 

Stella  replied  to  her  aunt's  question  in  the  negative,  without  tak- 
ing psiins  (o  examine  for  any  superfluity  of  powder  and,  opening  the 
door  leading  out  of  the  bedroom  ihe  two  proceeded  to  join  Ihe  hostess. 

The  morning  had  progressed  apace  when  Stella  had  procured 
paper,  pen  and  ink  to  write  a  Idler  to  Mr.  Trigg.  She  repaired  to 
the  bedroom  occupied  by  herself  and  aunt  and  closed  the  door  for 
privacy. 

Seated  by  a  little  table  at;  a  window  she  heaved  a  deep  sigh  as 
;;  prelude  to  the  I'd  lee  (ion  that  her  contemplated  communication 
would  be  a  difficult  one" to  compose,  if  she  desired  to  especially  please 
her  guardian.  She  had  never  written  many  letters,  and  she  tapped 
her  penholder  on  the  windowsill  for  many  minutes  while  she  gazed 
abstradedlv  out  upon  the  open  prairie  before  she  turned  finally  to 
her  task. 

Stella  wrote  for  a.  long  time,  frequently  correcting  and  interlining, 
until  six;  had  covered  a.  good  deal  of  paper.  Looking  up  with  a  sigh 
of  relief,  she  said,  just  audibly: 

'Til   read   it,  over  and   then  copy  it  in  a  nicer  hand." 


80  GUY  EAYMOND. 

While  Stella  is  reading  over  her  production,  we  will  glance  over 
her  shoulder  and  glean  the  contents. 

"My  Dear  My  Trigg:— 

"Mr.  Perry  brought  me  your  letter  and  I  was  so  glad  to  hear 
that  you  were  well.  The  roads  were  so  terribly  dusty  and  Mr.  Perry 
was  so  covered  with  dust,  that  at  first  I  did  not  know  him.  He  knew 
me  right  away.  When  we  met  him  Aunt  Ida  and  I  were  out  walking 
and  saw  him  coming  a  long  way  off.  We  gathered  some  beautiful 
long  grasses  which  Auntie  will  take  home  with  her  and  put  in  her 
parlor  vases.  I  am  ever  so  much  obliged  for  your  kind  intentions 
towards  me.  I  have  heard  a  great  deal  about  convents — much  against 
them  and  much  in  their  favor.  You  know  my  father  was  what  they 
call  an  infidel.  He  did  not  believe  that  God  had  ever  established 
any  of  the  religions  of  the  world.  He  always  claimed  that  his 
religion  'duty  to  his  fellowman/  was  all  sufficient.  But  my  father 
always  had  great  respect  for  the  Catholic  sisters  in  and  out  of  con- 
vents, and  gave  them  great  credit  for  devotion  to  their  ideas  of  duty. 

Between  you  and  me,  Aunt  Ida  has  not  much  idea  of  convent 
education.  She  thinks  that  girls  are  kept  too  much  in  seclusion 
while  being  prepared  to  take  a  part  in  the  affairs  of  life,  and  are 
little  more  than  mummies  when  they  leave  school.  But  Auntie  is 
all  for  society  and  dress,  .and  is  as  particular  in  Tier  toilet  out  here 
as  she  would  be  in  a  city.  My  own  opinion  is  that  of  my  poor,  dear 
mother — that  girls  soon  enough  learn  the  arts  of  society  after  they 
finish  their  studies.  I  then  have  no  objection,  and  feel  that  I  have 
no  right  to  express  one,  to  do  just  as  you  desire  me  to  do. 

As  Auntie  has  tired  of  this  place,  she  has  made  up  her  mind  to 
go  home  right  away,  by  the  schooner  that  landed  the  New  Orleans 
volunteers  at  Velasco.  So  I  will  soon  be  off  1<>  school  and  leave  you 
in  this  wild  country  with  a  cloud  of  war  hanging  over  it.  Oh !  You 
have  no  idea  how  my  heart  aches  when  I  think  of  turning  my  back- 
on  the  graves  of  my  dear  parents.  And  my  dear  Guy !  Where  is  he  ? 
He,  too,  may  be  dead.  If  not,  his  life  may  be  wretched  as  a  captive. 
Do  try,  my  dear  Mr.  Trigg,  to  learn  something  of  his  fate.  News 
came  to  us  today  that  a  company  of  settlers  had  pursued  a  band  of 
the  same  Indians  who  destroyed  our  family,  on  a  late  raid  on  the 
Colorado,  and  that  the  Texans  had  killed'  their  chief  and  burned 
their  villages  on  the  San  Saba.  It  may  be  I  hat  ihe  men  who  were 
in  this  expedition  learned  something  of  my  brother.  I  believe  if  it 
is  in  your  power  you  will  find  out  whether  he  is  dead  or  alive. 

"Mr.  Perry  will  take  this  to  you.     The   poor  fellow   has   no  coat, 


scri 
ma< 
see 


GUY  RAYMOND.  81 

having  given  his  away  to  one  in  need.     My  aunt  brought  a  suit   for 
poor,  clear  Guy  and  I  mean  to  give  it  to  Mr.  Perry.     'Pake  good 
of  yourself,  Mr.  Trigg.     If  you  should  get  killed  by  those   l.crriblc 
Mexicans,  what  would  become  of  poor  me?    I  hope  you  will  write  io 
me  whenever  you  have  a  chance.     Good-bye.    Your  little  friend, 

Stella  Kay mon  d. 
P.  $. —  I  knitted  you  two  pairs  of  socks  which  Mr.  P.  will  give  you. 

AY  hen  Stella  had  copied  her  letter  nicely  and  had  added  the  posl- 
ript,  it  was  nearly  noon  and  she  could  hear  the  preparations  being 
ade  to  serve  the  midday  meal.     Mrs.  "Raymond  had  been  over  to 
the  Governor,  in  regard   io   the  day  set  for  th<>   sailing  of  the 
schooner,  and  had  remained  to  chat  with  the  family,  as  was  her  ous- 
m  whenever  she  visited  the  executive  mansion. 

Mrs.  Morgan  came  in  to  call  Stella,  to  dinner  and  to  ask  if  her 
unt  had  expected  to  return  in  time  for  the  meal. 

It  was  an  hour  or  two  after  noon  before  Mrs.  Kaymond  returned, 
d  with  her  came  Perry,  leading  his  pony,  prepared  for  his  return 
p  to  the  Cibolo. 

Stella  had  her  letter  in  readiness,  and  in  a  neat  bundle  she  had 
laced  the  suit  of  clothes,  which  were  intended  for  her  brother,  to- 
ther  with  the  socks  she  had  so  thoughtfully  made  for  Mr.  Trig.u. 
'erry  entered  with  the  lady  to  tell  those  in  the  house  good-bye  and 
ceive  whatever  messages  Stella  might  wish  to  send. 
"You  did  not  make  a  very  long  stay,  Perry/'  said  Mrs.  Morgan. 
"I  hadn't  the  say-so,  ma'am.     When  we  get  orders  we  have  to 
ight  or  day,  rain  or  shine." 
" Won't  you  sit  down  awhile?" 

"No,  I  thank  you,  Mrs.  Morgan.  My  orders  are  to  lose  no  time, 
d  my  dispatches  are,  no  doubt,  very  important." 

"Well,    here's   a   little    lunch    for   you,    Perry.      I    thought    you 
ould  not  get  much  to  eat  on  the  road." 

"And  here,"  said  Stella,  "is  my  letter  to  Mr.  Trigg.     Tell  him 
1  about  us  and  give  him  my  love.     Mr.  Perry,  it  is  said  that  he 
who  casts  his  bread  upon  the  waters  will  find  it  after  many  days. 

Iiis  is  said  to  mean  that  whoever  helps  those  in  need  will  himself  be 
Iped  in  turn.     Here  is  a  suit  of  clothes  intended  for  my  dear,  lost. 
other,  which  I  ask  you  to  accept.     You  have  earned  it  by  your  kind 
t  in  parting  with  perhaps  your  only  coat." 
"Have  you  forgotten  Mr.  Trigg's  socks?"  asked  her  Hunt. 
"I  came  near  forgetting  to  mention  them.    They  are  in  the  bundle, 
r.   IVrry." 


8%  GUY  KAYMOND. 

Perry,  who  had  experienced  a  choking  sensation  at 'the  kindn 
showered  upon  him,  had  a  little  difficulty  in  enunciating  words  o 
thanks.     He  had   really   parted   with   his   only  coat,   and   felt  more 
gratitude  than  he  expressed. 

"You  all  are  kinder  to  me  than  I  deserve,  Miss  Stella.  I  can  nev 
forget  you." 

After  the  good-byes  had  been  spoken  the  young  man  bowed  his 
wav  out  and  was  soon  upon  his  pony,  and  with  the  Indies'  donations 
secured  behind  his  siddle,  he  galloped  down  the  road,  turning  occasion- 
ally to  give  an  answering  salute  to  the  handkerchiefs  waving  the 
ladies'  adieux. 

"Stella!  Do  you  know  we  have  to  get  ready  this  afternoon  to 
leave  for  Velasco  in  the  morning?'1  said  her  aunt,  leading  the  way 
to  their  room. 

"How  should  I  have  known  it,  Auntie?  This  is  the  first  I  have 
heard  of  it." 

"Mr.  Trigg  should  have  known  it,"  said  her  aunt,  "and  I  ought 
to  have  told  Perry.  T  wanted  to  see  your  letter.  Those  ladies  would 
make  me  stay  to  dinner.  What  did  you  write  about?" 

"I  wrote  so  many  things,  I  cannot  remember  all.  I  mentioned 
we  were  to  start  very  soon  to  take  the  schooner  for  New  Orleans." 

"That  will  be  notice  enough.  Now,  child,  let  us  get  our  things 
ready  and  have  it  over  with.  T  do  hate  to  bo  rushed  at  the  last 
minute.  Your  Uncle  Clarence  should  be  here.  He  has  run  craxy  ov< 
Texas  lands.  T  will  leave  a  letter  for  him  with  Mrs.  Morgan." 

"What  are  we  going  in,  Auntie,  from  here  to  the  coast?" 

"Oh  !  The  Governor  has  put  his  ambulance  at  our  disposal,"  sh 
said  gaily.  Then,  going  to  the  wretched  little  glass  and  scannin 
her  face  for  a  moment,  she  enquired  of  her  neice : 

"Stella,  does  my  complexion  look  as  well  as  when  I  first  cam 
here?" 

"It  looks  the  same  to  me,  Auntie." 

The  next  morning  the  Governor's  ambulance  was  at  Mrs.  'Mor- 
gan's betimes,  and  found  the  travelers  ready  for  the  trip.  The  strong, 
fat  mules  and  commodious  vehicle  promised  them  a  safe  and  speedy 
transit  to  their  destination.  With  a  Godspeed,  wo  will  cast  an  old 
shoe  after  them  and  drop  the  curtain,  for  the  present,  on  that  part  of 
our  narrative  connected  with  their  after  movements. 


ire 

: 

.10 


Gi;y  RAYMOND.  s:> 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  morning  that  Mrs.  Iiaymond  and  Stella  left  for  Velasco,  the 
camp  of  the  Texans  on  the  Cibola  was  astir  with  preparations  to 
march.  The  large  tent  was  struck  and  rolled,  ready  for  deposit  in 
one  of  the  wagons.  The  men  were  variously  engaged.  Some  were 
saddling  horses,  while  others  who  had  already  arranged  their  i rap- 
ings  were  securing  blankets  and  clothing  to  their  saddles,  preparatory 
ounting. 

The  dismounted  troops  were  busy  placing  their  light  traps  in  the 
n&,  and  examining  their  guns  and  ammunition. 

The  contemplated  movement  must  have  been  welcomed  by  the 
army,  for  the  air  resounded  with  the  men's  merriment  as  jest  and 
repartee  were  exchanged,  or  a  snatch  of  song  rang  out  in  a  well- 
turned  voice,  or  some  adept  at  whistling  imitated  the  sharp  notes  of 
a  fife.  In  the  midst  of  it  all,  grouped  in  deliberation,  were  noted 
men  whose  names  were  to  go  into  history,  as  the  redeemers  of  an 
empire  or  martyrs  to  its  liberation.  The  well  known  person  of  Austin 
and  the  commanding  form  of  Houston  were  conspicuous  near  the 
trunk  of  a  majestic  pecan  whose  branches  covered  the  party,  while 
near,  paying  respectful  attention  to  their  conversation,  were  mem- 
bers of  the  consultation  and  officers  of  the  command.  Here  Fannin 
stood  with  folded  arms  and  nervous  look,  little  dreaming  of  the  mar- 
tyrdom he  was  so  soon  to  suffer  for  the  cause  he  had  espoused.  There, 
near,  him,  reclined  Bowie,  silent,  save  when  addressed,  to  make  some 
1  iconic  answer,  with  the  veiled  future  pregnant  with  the  fame  of  the 

tn  Alamo, 
t  was  Austin  who  spoke : 
•|    am   perplexed   with  this  delay  of  the   promised    reinforcements. 
blame  may   lie  at  my  door,  llirmigli   my  lack  of  military  experi- 
and  those  powers  to  organize  and  conduct  a  campaign  so  essential 
to  a  soldier  in  command." 

"You  have  left  nothing  undone  to  arouse  the  country  and  con- 
centrate your  force,"  replied  General  Houston. 

"But  I  feel  my  lack  of  experience  in  the  field,  and  would  much 
prefer  position  in  the  council,  or  a  mission  for  assistance  to  the 
States.  In  either  capacity  I  would  be  useful.  As  commander  in 
chief,  one  mistake  may  work  irreparable  injury  to  our  cause.  Gen- 

II  Ion-ton,   yini   should    command    here." 
'No,  Austin!     The  army    I    found   here  had  chosen  you  for  their 


84  GUY  RAYMOND. 

leader;  any  change  now,  may  tend  to  dissatisfaction  'that  would  be 
more  fatal  than  the  grossest  error  of  a  commander." 

"But  fully  one-half  of  these  troops  are  from  the  East,  and  carne 
here  under  your  recognized  authority.  You  have  had  experience  as 
a  volunter  commander  and  possess  great  influence  over  men.  These 
two  facts  point  to  you,  of  all  men  here,  as  best  fitted  to  lead  us." 

"No  arguments  yon  can  make,  General  Austin,  will  change 
my  determination.  T  will  only  take  command  by  your  orders,"  re- 
pi  iod  Houston,  firmly. 

Austin,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  in  which  his  face  wore  a 
troubled  expression,  turned  to  the  several  officers  and  gave  orders  for 
the  immediate  marching  of  the  command.  He  designated  Fannin's 
company  to  lead  the  movement,  the  direction  of  the  march  to  be  taken 
from  the  guide  who  would  ride  with  its  commander. 

The  orders  of  the  chief  were  obeyed  with  alacrity.  The  head  of 
the  column  crossed  the  stream,  and  the  Texans  were  on  their  way  for 
the  Salado  creek.  The  mounted  men,  who  comprised  about  one- 
sixth  of  the  troops,  were  divided  into  three  divisions,  one  to  act  as 
advance  guard,  another  to  bring  up  the  rear,  and  the  third  were 
thrown  out  to  the  right,  as  flankers,  to  examine  the  country  towards 
San  Antonio.  Among  these  latter  it  was  the  fortune  of  Mr.  Trigg 
and  his  mess  to  be  numbered.  Captain  Bowie,  who  was  in  command 
of  the  flankers,  was  instructed  to  cross  the  Salado  within  four  miles 
of  the  town,  and  to  scout  the  country  thence  to  the  San  Antonio 
river,  with  the  view  of  detecting  the  proson«>  of  any  force  which 
the  enemy  might  have  pushed  forward  to  anticipate  the  pendii 
movement  of  the  Texans. 

After  a  trot  of  some  five  or  six  miles  the  crossing  indicated  w;  s 
reached,  and  the  party  filed  down  the  steep  embankment  to  the  gravelly 
stream  that  ran  swift  and  shallow  where  it  crossed  the  road  they  were 
pursuing. 

"Halt,  men !  You  may  dismount  here  for  a  little  while.  I  will 
go  to  that  hill  yonder  and  take  a  survey  of  the  country  towards  town. 
Henry  Karnes,  I  want  you  to  go  with  me." 

So  saying,  Captain  Bowie  rode  off  at  a  brisk  pace  towards  the 
elevation  he  had  indicated,  followed  by  Karnes,  who  was  one  of  his 
most  trusted  and  faithful  men. 

"We  might  as  well  act  on  the  Captain's  suggestion,  Mr.  Trigg, 
and  get  down  and  rest  our  nags,"  said  Tip  Hamilton.  "This  is  a 
pretty  little  stream  here.  If  I  had  a  little  more  time  and  a  propitious 
muse,  I  believe  I  could  indite  a  little  verse  on  its  beauties." 

"You  won't  have  any  use  for  verses  and  such  like,  I'm  thinking. 


GUY  EAYMOND.  85 

We  are  pretty  near  the  Greasers  now,  and  no  telling  what  hot  work 
is  waiting  for  us.  You  call  this  a  pretty  stream!  You  should  sec  il 
above  here,  at  the  forks,  where  those  Indian  devils  destroyed  the 
home  of  Mr.  Eaymond,  who  I  was  telling-  ye  about." 

"The  father  of  the  little  girl  to  whom  you  wrote  the  other  day?" 
asked  Tip. 

"The  very  same.  But  she's  not  so  little.  She's  over  fifteen.  It 
makes  me  sad  to  think  of  the  work  of  those  murderin'  Indians." 

"Did  yon  not  say  that  she  had  a  brother  of  whose  fate  you  were 
uncertain  ?" 

"I  did.    Poor  Guy !    He  was  as  fine  a  lad  as  ever  lived.    I  wonder 

t  ever  came  of  him,"  said  Mr.  Trigg,  in  a  sad  tone. 

"Guy  E-a-y-m-o-n-d  !"  pronounced  Hamilton,  musingly.     "It  is  a 

;ty  name  and  sounds  more  musical  than  Tiptou  Hamilton." 

"It  is   a,  wonder  that  you  would  acknowledge  it!     You  are  so 

stedly  conceited,"  said  Jones,  who  had  come  near 'and  heard  the 
last  of  the  conversation  between  Mr.  Trigg  and  Hamilton. 

"Conceited,  say  yon?  You  knight  of  commonplace  romance!  You 
champion  prevaricator!  Yon  brazen  narrator  of  the  impossible,  the 
impracticable,  the  incredible!  You  hero  of  the  wonderful  bridge  and 

eight  hundred  elephants!     You— 

"What  in  the  d 1  are  you  up  to.  Tip?"  asked  Ducio  Halfen, 

>roaching. 

"Apostrophizing  Jones." 
' Apostrophizing  him?" 

"Yes,  he  belongs  to  the  supernatural." 

"He  is  good  natural,  that's  sure,"  said  Ducio. 

"If  I  wasn't,  you'd  both  been  dead  men  before  now.     My  patience 

I't  always  last,  however." 

"Well,  Jones,"  said   Hamilton,  "wiih  all  your  faults  you  have  but 

serious  one,  and  if  vmi  don'l  want  to  be  the  butt  of  the  camp,  just 
take  my  advice  on  one  point." 

"And  what  is  that?"  asked  the  victim. 

"Stop  lying." 

"Here  comes  the  Captain  back.     1    wonder  if  he  has_  spied  the 

isers,"  said  one  of  the  men. 

"They  can't  be  coming  this  way,   if  he  did,  the  slow  way  he's 

ing,"  said  another. 

"I  don't  b'lieve  Jim  Bowie  would  run  from  fifty  Mexicans,"  said 
first  speaker. 

"Neither  would   Karncs.     He's  an  nlo  Indjun  hVhtcr.     Up  to  ther 

id  of  the  Trinity  once,  me  and  Karnes  and  two  other  fellers  kept 


UY  .RAYMOND. 

forty  or  more  Injuns  off  untell  night  come,  and  we  'scaped  down 
the  river  in  a  dug-out.  He's  all  grit,  he  is." 

This  was  said  in  a  drawling  tone,  by  a  tall,  lank  individual,  who 
Deemed  to  he  all  hones  and  muscle,  whose  attenuated  form  would  have 
.furnished  an  uncertain  mark  for  shaft  or  bullet.  His  appearance 
afforded  an  opportunity  for  the  exercise  of  Hamilton's  wit. 

"I  can  understand  the  risk  run  by  Mr.  Karnes,  and  perhaps  by  the 
other  two  on  the  critical  occasion  you  mention,  but,  my  dear  sir,  you 
certainly  could  have  entertained  slight  apprehensions  of  any  contact 
by  your  attenuated  anatomy  with  the  missiles  of  the  dusky  lords  of 
the  prairie." 

Hamilton's  sally,  not  comprehended  by  the  backwoods  man,  caused 
a  laugh  among  some  of  the  bystanders,  among  whom  was  Ducio. 

The  lean  individual  looked  from  one  to  another  for  a  moment, 
then,  comprehending  that  something  had  been  said  at  his  expense, 
he  clubbed  his  gun  in  a  menacing  manner  and  addressed  himself  In 
the  Mississippi  man: 

"See  here,  my  frien,'  I  don't  know  nuthin'  about  you,  and  still 
less  about  yer  talk,  but  if  yer  got  anything  ag'in  Nathan  'Roach — why, 
jos'  sail  in  an'  I'll  show  yer  that  you  ain't  no  more'n  nuthin' — you 
game  niakin/  stuck-up  counter-hopper — w-h-o-o-p !" 

Mr.  Eoach,  as  he  gave  a  regular  Indian  warwhoop,  circled  his 
clubbed  gun  and  cleared  a  ring  in  a  second. 

The  presence  of  the  Capain  and  Karnes  at  this  moment  put  a 
stop  to  further  demonstrations. 

"What's  the  matter,  Nathe?"  asked  his  companion  of  the  Trinity 
fight. 

"A  little  trifle,  Karnes;  not  enough  to  make  a  feller  rale  mad.  1 
was  jcs'  a-showiii'  a  counter-hopper  a  flourish  or  two.  It  take-  a 
man  to  rile  Nathan  Roach." 

Hamilton  was  amused  at  the  fellow V  language  and  capers,  and 
half  put  out  at  his  offensive  estimation  of  himself,  liul  he  con- 
cluded he  had  got  hold  of  a  bad  subject  for  ridicule,  and  that  the 
I  test  way  would  be  to  smoothe  over  what  had  occurred. 

"Here's  my  hand,  Mr.  Eoach.  I  did  not  mean  any  ill  ing  by  my 
incomprehensible  jargon.  You  are  true  grit,  and  I  want  you  to  save 
it  all  for  use  right  along  side  of  me  when  wre  jump  the  Mexicans. 
My  name  is  Hamilton." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Hamilton;  you  know  how  to  talk  sensible  like 
when  yer  \v;mis  to.  i<AJ'  yer  know  me  long  yell  find  it  lioap  safer 
to  have  Nathan  Roach's  good-will  than  to  make  n  enemy  oiitVn  him." 

The  Captain's  voice,  calling  the  men  to  mount,  cut  short  the 
discussion,  and  the  saddles  were  soon  filled. 


GUY  .RAYMOND. 
Bowie  directed  Karnes  to  select  six  men  and  to  proceed  at  once 


on  the  duty  to  which  lie  had  assigned  him.  As  the  latter 
along  the  line,  several  signified  a  willingness  to  volunteer,  but 
Karnes  stated  that'  he  wanted  good  horses  as  well  as  good  men. 
Ho  told  them  he  knew  all  the  riders  were  fearless,  but  that  some 
of  iho  horses  were  poor.  The  detail  was  at  length  complete.  Among 
those  sekvied,  live  are  already  known  1o  I  In-  render.  Mr.  Trigg  was 
tak<vn  first,  as  his  animal  was  the  best  in  the  command.  Then  came 
Tip  Hamilton,  Nathan  Roach,  .Jones  and  Ducin  Hal  fen,  in  ihe 
order  named.  The  sixth  and  last  man  belonged  t'o  that  large 
family  whose  name  is  cosmopolitan.  TTis  name  was  John  Smith. 
Jones  was  a  little  miffed  at  not  being  selected  first,  on  the  score  of 
horseflesh,  as  he  had  the  pedigree  of  his  charger  in  a  memorandum 
book  and  had  regaled  his  messmates  on  his  merits  over  many  a 
camp  fire. 

Karnes  drew  lik-  men  aside  and  ordered  them  to  dismount,  while 
the  main  body,  under  the  lead  of  I  heir  commander,  filed  awav  and 
proceeded  down  the  right  bank  of  the  stream.  When  the  last 
trooper  had  disappeared  over  a  rise;  in  the  rolling  country  Karnes  said 
to  his  men: 

"Boys,  we've  got  to  scout  right  into  San  Antone,  almost.  We've 
got  to  go  to  the  powder  house,  anyhow,  unless  we  meet  a  force. 
After  we^get  there,  I  will  be  guided  by  circumstances." 

''Hurrah  !"  cried  Hamilton,  "we'll  have  a  little  excitement,  if 
nothing  else." 

''How  many  of  you  have  ever  been  in  San  Antone?"  asked 
Karnes. 

No  one  responded  in  the  affirmative.  Mr.  Trigg  had  not  an- 
swered. Finally  he  said: 

"I  was  there  once,  but  it  was  a  long  time  ago." 

Karnes  then  had  an  inspection  of  the  ammunition  and  the  pieces 
of  I  10  men.  Finding  everything  in  good  order  and  condition,  he 
gave  the  word  to  move,  and  his  little  squad  were  soon  on  the  road 
leading  to  the  city  of  the  Alamo.  As  they  reached  the  summit  of 
the  first  rise,  at  a  distance  of  about  a  thousand  yards  from  the  creek, 
the  white  top  of  the  powder  house  revealed  itself  just  peeping  over 
the  inesquite  growth,  which  crowned  the  brow-  of  the  intervening 
hills.  Awav  to  the  right  was  the  line  of  timber  bordering  the  San 
Antonio  and  its  tributary,  the  Olmos,  a  beautiful  stream  whose 
pellucid  waters  largely  supplied  the  former's  volume.  Thi>  fringe  of 
wood,  seeming  to  -l;irt  the  blue  hills  that;  were  in  fact  many  miles 
beyond,  Insi  itself  behind  the  rising  foreground  that  alone  -shut  out 
a  view  of  ihe  white  walls  of  Bexar. 


RAYMOND. 

Karnes  rode  oft'  a  few  yards  and  placed  himself  on  a  knoll  s 
what  more  elevated  than  the  road,  and  slowly  swept  the  country  wit 
a  small  glass  which  he  drew  from  his  pocket.  His  view  was  take 
to  the  southwest  and  south,  then,  passing  the  latter  point,  he  turne 
the  glass  slowly  eastward,  and  remarked  to  l-lir  men  who  had  gat!, civ 
around  him: 

"There  is  the  main  command.  You  can  see  the  dust  with  th 
naked  eye.  They  are  making  for  the  mouth  of  the  Salado." 

"Can  you  see  the  Captain  and  our  other  boys?"  asked  Hamiltoi 

"It  don't  take  a  glass  to  see  them,"  said  Mr.  Trigg.  "Look  thercl 
way  to  the  southwest — no — they  couldn't  a-got  that  far." 

Karnes  turned  his  glass  in  the  direction  indicated. 

"They  are  Mexican  cavalry,  Mr.  Trigg!  They  are  a  long  way  ofl 
but  may  see  us,  if  they  are  using  a  glass.  Get  back  to  the  road 
boys,  and  we'll  keep  on  to  the  powder  house." 

A  half  mile,  and  the  latter  showed  more  than  half  its  white  lime 
stone  masonry  to  the  scouters,  now  in-own  more  cautious  in  tliei 
movements.  Karnes  halted  them  and  ordered  all  to  leave  the  roa( 
and  dismount  in  the  chaparral. 

This  disposition  made,  he  nodded  to  Nathan  "Roach  : 

"Nathe,"  he  said,  "I  want  you  to  come  with  mo  afoot  until  w< 
can  see  every  inch  of  that  powder  house.  T  don't  want  any  shootinj 
unless  we're  obliged  to.  Maybe  there's  nobody  there." 

"All  right,  Karnes.  I'd  tike  to  draw  a  bead  today  on  a.  Greaser,' 
said  Nathan,  following  the  other. 

They  moved  off  through  the  mesquite  bushes,  watched  by  tliei 
comrades  until  lost  in  the  foliage. 

Up  over  a  hill  or  two,  with  here  and  there  an  open  glade  tc 
pass,  the  frontiersmen  pushed  stealthily  along  until  they  reached 
the  brow  of  the  tableland  on  which  stood  the  object  of  their  np 
proach.  The  powder  house  was  built  of  white  limestone  and  rose 
with  nearly  perpendicular  walls  slightly  converging  at  the  top,  tr 
a  height  of  about  forty  feet  from  its  foundation.  It  was  built  prob 
ably  for  the  purpose  disclosed  by  its  name,  and  partly  to  answer  foi 
a  lookout  to  detect  the  presence  of  Indians  or  enemies  of  an> 
description.  A  door  on  the  northern  face  of  the  building  was  the 
sole  entrance  and  each  side,  near  the  top,  was  pierced  by  a  -mal 
window. 

Our  adventurers  found  themselves  in  a  dens*1  growth,  which  inadi 
an  oblong  circuit  of  the  opening  whore  towered  the  structure.  Tho\ 
crawled  to  its  edge  and  peered  through  into  the  open  space.  Tin 
door  of  the  house  was  open  and  before  it  stood  a  .-tack  of 


GUY  KAYMOND.  89 

Just,  wit li in  could  be  seen  several  Mexicans  seated  and  apparently 
playing  cards.  Another  came  lazily  around  the  northwest  corner, 
rolling  a  cigarette.  He  stopped  at  the  door,  said  something  to  the 
others  which  caused  a  laugh,  took  punk  and  steel  from  his  pocket 
and  procuring  a  light,  began  to  smoke. 

"Golly !    What  a  shot  I  could  make,"  said  Nathan  Eoach. 

The  Mexican  looked  suddenly  in  their  direction. 

"Hush  talking  so  loud,  Nathe.  Looked  as  if  that  fellow  heard 
you/'  said  Karnes. 

The  smoker  entered  the  house,  and  could  he  seen  to  mount  the 
stairs,  the  foot  of  which  was  immediately  at  the  right  of  the  door. 

"One,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven,  eight,"  counted  Karncs. 
"Light  muskets  in  that  stack.  Reckon  that's  their  number. 

'•Look,   Karnes,   that  fellow   is   spying  the  country/' 

The  Mexican  was  at  the  oast  window  and,  leaning;  out,  looked 
earnestly  to  the  eastward;  then  gradually  swept  the  horizon  to  the 
southeast. 

"Golly!  Couldn't  I  fetch  him  from  that-  hole,"  said  Eoach, 
drawing  a  bead. 

"Behave,  Nathe!  You're  acting  1.1 10  plum  fool.  I  want  to  bag 
them  Greasers.  Go  back  and  bring  up  the  boys.  Let  'em  draw 
straws  so  as  to  see  who  will  have  to  stay  and  hold  the  horses.  Let 
'em  come  mounted  'round  that  first  hill  and  leave  the  nags  in  that 
ravine  we  crossed.  It  is  too  far  to  leave  'em  at  the  place  where 
are  now." 

"All  right,  Karnes.  Won't  he  gone  long,"  said  the  other,  moving 
off  with  his  long  back  in  a  horizontal  position. 

Karnes  amused  himself  watching  the  unsuspecting  enemy.  The 
Alcxic;  n  had  quit  the  window  and  reappeared  below.  The  bells  in 
town  announced  the  hour.  It  was  noon. 


CHAPTER,  XIV. 

()u  iie.  opposite  ihc  cathedral  of  San    lu-rnando,  running  as  nearly 

as    a    conformance   with    the    winding   river    would    permit,    a 

short  street  opened,  ending  at  the  extremity  of  the  peninsula  through 

which  ran  the  parallel  and  principal  avenue  of  the  town.     The  latter 

known  as  "Calle  Principal."     The  short  street  was  named  "Callo 

de  Cared." 

pedestrian  would  leisurely  turn  into  the  Calle  de  Cared  from 
the   nijiin   pla/a,  he   would   sec  a    very   narrow   street,  wide  enough   l<> 


(irv  RAYMOND. 

allow  two  vehicles  to  pass  each  other,  provided  the  drivers  would  be 
careful  and  in  full  sympathy  with  the  universal  custom  which  gov- 
erns the  choice  of  sides  to  take.  On  either  side  of  the  narrow  way. 
abutting  on  the  sidewalks,  extended  the  low,  thick  walls  of  the  Mex- 
ican houses,  relieved  alone  by  the  deep  portals  and  grated  windows. 
Here  and  there,  on  the  river  side,  jacals  were  interspersed,  lending 
contrast  to  the  view  by  their,  tule  roofs  and  mud-bedaubed  sides.  The 
river,  encroaching  upon  the  street,  caused  an  interval  that  terminated 
at  a  rude  footbridge  spanning  the  stream  where  an  old  mill  stood, 
with  its  huge  wheel  conspicuous,  and  turned  in  ceaseless  revolution 
by  the  rapid  current.  Below  the  bridge,  the  waters,  seething  and 
foaming  as  they  escaped  the  narrow  pass  way  that  caused  the  power, 
changed  to  deep,  cool  eddies,  then  to  a  thousand  ripples  and  stream- 
ing  lines  of  white  above  the  blue  as  the  translucent  flood  poured  over 
the  stones  and  pebbles  of  the  broad  shallows  where  passed  a  ford. 
Above  a  low  stone  wall  comprised  the  dam.  Through  this  rude 
work  the  searching  waters  found  exit  by  many  a  moss-lined  crevice 
and  came  in  rills  and  spurts  to  half  inundate  a  cress-covered  isbuul 
that  held  the  center  of  the  bridge.  Beyond  the  dam  the  blue  river 
formed  a  pretty  picture  with  its  receding  banks  lined  bv  willows, 
whose  half  weeping  branches  fell  pendant  until  their  graceful  foliage 
kissed  the  tranquil  surface. 

Two  doors  from  where  the  Calle  de  Carcel  left  the  plaza,  as  one 
would  turn  into  it  to  the  right,  was  a  tienda  containing  several  tables, 
spread  with  snowy  cotton  cloths,  occupying  the  sides  of  its  small 
front  room.  A  back  door,  half  open,  disclosed  a  rear  apartment  and 
allowed  a  glimpse  of  a  large  iron  pot  swinging  from  a  tripod.  A 
little  further  on  a  small  sign  was  faintly  scrawled  over  a  door  and 
spelled  out,  on  a  closer  inspection,  v-i-n-o-t-e-r-i-a.  Opposite  the  vin- 
oteria,  the  structure  not  differing  materially  from  its  neighbor's,  was 
the  carcel  or  jail,  whence  the  street  had  derived  its  name.  At  a 
stone's  throw  from  the  carcel,  with  the  market  intervening,  and  slight- 
ly retired  from  the  paved  walk,  was  another  sign,  swung  so  as  to  be 
visible  up  and  down  the  street.  This  bore  the  rough  draft  of  a  bull's 
head  while,  partly  above  and  partly  below,  were  the  words  "Cabeza 
de  Toro." 

Next  to  the  shop  of  the  Monte  Pio,  the  resort  of  the  Cabeza  de 
Tor<>  was  the  most  popular.  Here  was  dealt  the  name  so  fascinating 
to  the  average  Mexican.  The  Bull's  head  was  open,  at  all  hours,  to  the 
votaries  of  monte;  but  night  was  the  favorile  time,  for  the  croud, 
which  would  then  assemble  at  the  rooms-  in  goodly  numbers,  and 
«hould  the  occasion  be  the  evening  of  a  lies! a,  would  (ill  them  to 


Grv  1». \y.\io  NT>.  01 

their  utmost  capacity.  The  monte  room  equalized  all  distinctions. 
Here  the  patrician  and  the  plebean  met  and  puffed  the  fumes  of  the 
ciirareta  in  each  other's  faces.  The  high  official  and  the  ladron,  the 
owner  of  the  hacienda  and  the  mendicant  rubbed  against  each  other, 
the  interest  in  the  all-absorbing  game  suppressing  every  feeling  that 
elsewhere  would  have  been  engendered  by  offensive  contact. 

To  add  to  the  attractions  of  the  place,  the  proprietor  had  appro- 
priated two  apartments  for  other  purposes.  One  of  these,  fronting 
on  the  street,  was  devoted  to  nightly  fandangos,  free  to  all  the  patrons 
of  the  monte  rooms.  The  other,  to  the  rear,  was  the  wine  room, 
where  a  villainous  native  beverage,  called  mescal,  was  served  for  a 
<|iiar;i!la  a  drink.  In  Ihis  laiter  room  were  tallies  or  stands,  where 
Mexican  dishes  wore  sold  by  women  who  paid  a  rental  for  the  privi- 
lege. Kadi  st-and  bad  ils  own  furnace  and  coals,  over  which  were 
placed  ihe  pois  containing  (he  edibles,  and  from  which  fhev  were 
dished  oui,  hot  and  steaming  on  demand. 

Such  was  lho  most  notorious  resort  in  Bexar,  at  the  time  of  our 
writing.  The  presence  of  the  army  of  the  Mexican  (Jeneral  Cos. 
consisting  of  about'. two  thousand  troops,  gave  unusual  life  to  the 
iou'ti  and  trebled  the  usual  attendance1  at  the  Cabeza  de  Toro. 

After  Jose  bad  finished  the  duties  which  devolved  upon  him  as 
the  i  loxo  to  the  Father  Ignacio,  he  reported  to  Guy  bis  readiness  to 
accoi  ipany  him  to  witness  a  game  of  monte.  He  cautioned  him  in 
not  Mention  the  fact  of  the  proposed  visit  to  the  priest,  as  the  latter 
had  very  curious  ideas  about  going  to  such  places. 

"Kiii,  I  have  been  told,"  said  Guy,  "thai  prices  often  bet  at  the 
game,  considering  it  no  barm  io  gamble." 

"What  you  say,  senor,  admits  of  much  qualification.  In  Mexico 
I  have  seen  some  of  the;  padres,  who  are  not  any  better  than  they 
should  be,  gamble  in  just  such  a  place  as  the  Cabeza  de  Toro,  but 
they  would  not  tell  their  bishop  of  it.  Again,  I  have  known  good 
and  holy  priests  bet  a  real  or  more  and  sometimes  win  quite  ;i  pile 
of  silver.  And  what  woidd  they  do  with  such  winnings?  The  next 
dav  would  see  the  last  quariilla  distributed  among  the  poor  and  sick. 

i  rule  the  padres  are  lucky,  and  when  they  give  it  to  the  hungry 
and  needy,  where  is  the  harm?" 

"If  you  could  take  away  the  bad  influences  of  the  example,  Jose, 
there  is  much  philosophy  in  your  remarks,"  said  Guy. 

"Tho  example  is  good  enough^  senor.  Suppose  everybody  would 
follow  it  and  give  their  winnings  to  th'1  poor?" 

"Your  remark  is  ingenious,"  said  Guy,  laughing.  "The  example 
I  alluded  to  lay  in  the  act  of  gambling  and  frequenting  a  place 
where  the  associations  are  usually  falal  to  good  morals." 


92  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"But,  on  the  other  hand/'  contended  Jose,  "when  a  padre  is 
present  the  gamblers  are  quiet  and  well  behaved,  and  an  oath  is 
seldom  uttered.  The  Mexican  people  have  a  great  respect  for  the 
fathers." 

"Would  Father  Ignacio  bet  at  a  game  of  monte." 

"Not  he!"  said  Jose,  emphatically. 

"Does  he  approve  of  it  in  other  priests?" 

"No,  senor;  neither  in  priests  nor  people.  Just  confess  the  sin 
to  him,  if  you  want  to  be  amazed  at  the  penance  you  will' get." 

"I  think  Father  Ignacio  is  right," 'said  Guy,  musingly. 

They  had  just  turned  into  the  Calle  de  Carcel,  when  Jose,  pointing 
into  the  tienda,  remarked: 

"There  is  the  tienda  of  Senora  Candelario." 

"Fll  never  forget  her  minced  peppers,"  said  Guy,  glancing  into 
the  place. 

Operations  at  the  place  of  their  destination  seemed  to  be  in  full 
blast  as  they  approached.  The  hum  of  many  voices  from  the  crowd 
around  the  door,  where  hung  the  sign,  was  mingled  with  the  lively 
strains  of  music  from  the  room  devoted  to  the  dance.  Jose  looked 
into  the  monte  room,  but,  discovering  that  dealing  had  not  begun, 
suggested  to  his  companion  that  they  take  in  the  fandango  first. 
Guy  submitted  to  the  other's  leadership  and  followed  into  the  next 
room.  Four  musicians  were  playing  in  one  corner,  producing  very 
creditable  music  from  two  violins,  a  harp  and  a  flute.  Seated  ;m 
benches  lining  the  walls  were  a  score  of  senoritas  looking  as  immo- 
bile as  statuary,  save  an  occasional  turn  of  the  head  towards  the 
entrance,  as  some  fresh  arrival  attracted  attention.  Guy,  at  Jose's 
suggestion,  took  a  seat  near  the  door,  while  the  latter  prepared  to 
interview  the  proprietor  or  other  authority,  to  ascertain  how  soon 
the  game  would  begin. 

Left  to  himself  Guy  took  in  the  movements  of  the  arrivals  and 
of  the  men  who  sauntered  in  and  out  of  the  room.  Many  of  the 
latter  scrutinized  him  very  closely  and  with  more  or  less  expressions 
of  surprise,  on  account  of  his  nationality. 

Jose  presently  looked  in  to  see  how  his  young  American  friend 
was  getting  along,  and  brought  with  him  a  tall,  graceful  Mexican. 
whom  he  introduced  to  Guy  as  Manuel  Ruiz. 

"I  am  happy  to  know  you,  Senor  Ruiz,"  he  said. 

"Consider  me  your  friend  and  servant,  Senor  Raymond.  But 
!io\v  well  you  speak  our  language!" 

"I  believe  T  speak   it  pretty    \vell    for   an    American.     I 
excel  lent  teacher." 


oei 

:: 


GUY  KAYMOND.  93 

"Jose  tells  me  you  arrived  with  Father  Ignacio.  It  is  a  good 
recommendation  to  have  been  in  such  excellent  company,  notwith- 
standing, I  presume  you  have  given  your  parole  and  are  all  right  at 
headquarters." 

"On  the  contrary,  senor,  I  have  not  given  any  parole,  not  deem- 
ing such  a  step .  Now  I  remember,  the  padre  did  say  I  must 

not  venture  out  in  town  before  I  gave  my  parole.  He  does  not 
know  I  have  left  the  house.  Jose  proposed  to  satisfy  my  desire  to 
witness  a  game  of  monte  and  here  we  are." 

"It  may  be  all  right  tonight,  but  must  not  be  repeated  for  your 
own  sake.  There  are  eight  hundred  Texans  encamped  on  the  Cibolo. 
The  capture  of  Goliad  has  opened  the  ball  and  war  has  certainly  begun. 
You  will  see  why  it  will  be  necessary  for  a  man  of  your  complexion 
to  carry  a  pass  to  escape  arrest." 

"What  you  have  communicated  is  news  to  me.  I  have  been  a 
3aptive  among  the  Indians  for  two  years,  without  a  word  from  my 
own  people." 

At  the  request  of  his  new  acquaintance  Guy  related  much  of 
the  story  of  his  captivity,  which  enhanced  the  interest  first  awakened 
in  the  mind  of  the  former,  and  led  to  a  promise  to  remain  near  him 
until  he  desired  to  return  to  the  priest's  house. 

The  dancing  here  begun  and  couples  filled  the  floor,  turning  in 
the  easy  measure  of  the  Spanish  waltz.  Euiz,  excusing  himself,  soon 
joined  the  throng  with  a  little  woman,  who  had  been  sitting  near,  for 
hi?  partner. 

Guy  knew  how  to  dance.     The  music  and  the  scene  before  him 
seemed  to  electrify  him.     All  at  once  he  caught  sight  of  a  neglected 
senorita  in  the  opposite  corner,  and,  without  hesitation,  hastened  to 
T  side  and  asked  her  to  waltz. 

When  the  music  ceased,  Euiz,  who  was  looking  for  his  American 
iend,  caught  sight  of  him  leading  his  partner  to  a  seat.  Jose  was 
also  waiting  at  the  door  to  show  Guy  to  the  monte  room.  The 'Mexican 
is  a  natural  gambler.  The  passion  for  gaming  seems  to  have  become 
ingrained  through  heredity.  Tbe  chance  upon  which  he  will  stake 
his  last  article  of  property  may  be  determined  by  the  turn  of  a  card 
or  the  cutting  of  a  watermelon.  Losses,  great  or  small,  are  endured 
with  perfect  stoicism,  while  success  induces  no  expression  indicative 
of  exultation  in  the  Aztec  physiognomy. 

Crossing  an  unlighted  passage  dividing  it  from  the  scene  of  the 
fandango,  Guy  and  his  two  companions  entered  a  square  apartment 
with  flagged  floor,  high  ceiling  and  the  inevitable  deep,  grated  win- 
dows. On  the  side  opposite  the  street,  three  small  tables  were  ranged 


rUY  RAYMOND. 

near  the  wall,  over  each  of  which  an  individual  presided.  Above  the 
middle  table,  begrimed  with  dust  and  smoke,  hung  the  picture  of  a 
saint,  which  the  rude  letters  below  it  indicated  to  be  that  of  Saint 
Anthony.  Several  persons  were  gathered  around  this  table  watching 
the  dealer  as  he  dexterously  manpulated  a  pack  of  cards.  The  men 
seated  at  the  other  tables  were  carelessly  disengaged,  while  before 
them  lay  the  cards,  ready  for  use,  with  their  representatives  painted 
upon  the  board.  The  game  had  fairly  begun  at  the  middle  table,  and 
silver  coins  from  a  real  up  to  the  Mexican  dollar,  or  peso,  were  placed 
upon  the  favorite  cards  of  the  bettors,  while  the  dealer  mechanically 
drew  the  gaudy  pieces  of  pasteboard  from  the  deck.  As  the  bank 
would  win,  the  dealer  would  rake  in  the  winnings  and  deposit  them 
in  a  drawer.  When  it  sustained  a  loss,  he  would  pay  from  the  drawer 
or  from  moneys  won  by  the  bank  on  another  card.  The  bets  were 
all  very  light.  After  watching  these  operations  for  a  half  hour  or 
more,  Guy  expressed  his  disappointment  to  Jose  and  Manuel  as  to 
the  character  of  the  game  he  had  expected  to  see,  and  wondered  how 
it  could  be  so  attractive  to  the  Mexicans. 

"You  would  be  much  interested  if  you. would  bet  at  the  game," 
said  Jose. 

"Suppose  you  try  your  luck,  Senor  Raymond,"  suggested  Manuel 
Ruiz. 

"I  am  not  supplied  with  funds  tonight,"  said  Guy,  laughing,  as 
he  remembered  his  empty  pocket.  "But  tomorrow  Jose  is  to  get  me 
the  money  for  my  pony  and  I  will  risk  a  real  or  two." 

"No  need  of  waiting  until  tomorrow,  senor,"  said  Jose,  "for  here  is 
a  peso  at  your  disposal." 

"I  feel  as  if  I  could  break  the  bank  tonight,  Jose,  and  if  I 
should  have  such  luck  it  would  make  the  dealer  my  enemy.  You  bet 
four  reals,  and  if  you  lose,  lend  me  the  other  four  and  I  will  be 
pretty  sure  to  win." 

"That  does  not  follow,  but  here  goes.    Quatro  reales  on  the  seven." 

Jose  put  down  his  half  dollar  and — lost. 

Manuel  followed  his  example  and  won. 

"The  seven  was  always  my  lucky  card."  said  Jose,  "but  tonight  it 
seems  as  if  it  is  not.  Now,  Senor  Raymond,  let  us  see  if  my  loss 
will  be  your  gain." 

Guy  waited  for  a  new  deal  and  chose  his  card  without  hesitation. 

He  won. 

He  handed  Jose  back  his  loan,  and  bet  again. 

Jose  and  Ruiz  both  followed  his  example  and  lost. 

"Que  mala  fortuna !"  exclaimed  Ruiz.  "There,  Senor  Raymond 
has  won." 


GUY  RAYMOND.  95 

"El  no  es  indio  por  nada,"  said  Jose.  "Indians  are  always  lucky 
gamblers." 

Guy  had  no  particular  confidence  in  his  further  success.  He  had 
repaid  Jose  and  was  careless,  if  he  won  or  lost.  Each  time  he  won 
he  placed  the  entire  amount  on  some  card,  and  invariably  he  would 
win.  His  companions  had  lost  all  their  change,  besides  several  small 
amounts  he  had  prevailed  upon  them  to  accept.  They  were  amazed 
and  amused  at  his  success  which,  as  one  of  them  had  predicted,  now 
caused  him  to  become  highly  interested,  and  not  a  little  excited.  A 
dense  crowd  had  gathered  around  the  table,  and  many  voices  were 
heard  expressing  more  or  less  surprise  at  the  luck  of  the  American. 

Guy  counted  down  fifty  pesos  and  staked  them  on  Jose's  lucky 
seven. 

He  won  again. 

He  now  had  one  hundred  pesos.  Euiz  was  delighted.  He  sug- 
gested to  Guy  to  put  aside  ninety  pesos  and  to  bet  small  amounts, 
until  he  should  lose  the  ten — or  win  another  hundred. 

Guy  handed  him  the  ninety  pesos  and  again  put  his  trust  in  the 
seven.  Success  did  not  desert  him.  He  was  highly  elated,  and,  for 
the  first  time,  looked  around  at  the  faces  whose  eyes  were  regarding 
him  with  wonder.  One  pair  of  eyes,  however,  met  his  glance  with  a 
vindictiveness  of  expression  that  arrested  his  attention,  and  caused 
him  to  look  up  again  several  times,  only  to  meet  the  same  sinister  look. 
The  fellow's  expression  annoyed  him  to  such  an  extent  that  he  lost 
interest  in  the  game  and  was  not  aware  of  a  change  in  his  luck, 
until  he  saw  the  dealer  rake  his  stake  into  the  drawer. 

He  looked  up  and  encountered  the  gaze  that  had  so  perturbed  him, 
and  this  time  the  owner  of  the  eyes  were  close  at  hand.  As  he 
encountered  the  other's  look  with  one  of  defiance,  and  was  about  to 
demand  what  was  meant  by  his  offensive  glances,  they  were  partially 
explained  by  the  following  words  from  the  individual  himself,  who 
pointed  directly  at  him : 

"Companeros !  This  Gringo  is  a  murderer  and  a  thief,  and  I  can 
prove  it." 

The  words  were  scarcely  uttered  before  the  fellow  went  sprawling 
to  the  floor  from  the  force  of  a  blow  dealt  by  Guy's  muscular  arm. 
The  confusion  which  ensued  would  be  difficult  to  describe.  The 
crowd  surged  back  and  forward,  having  completely  closed  in  upon 
the  combatants.  Jose  and  Ruiz  tried  to  get  to  their  friend,  being 
much  alarmed  for  his  safety  on  hearing  on  all  sides  cries  of  "Mueron 
los  Gringos." 

Their  efforts  were  unavailing. 


96  GUY  KAYMOND. 

Jose  beat  his  breast  in  very  agony  at  the  thought  of  what  Father 
Ignacio  would  say  to  him  if  anything  happened  to  Senor  Raymond. 
He  would  be  blamed  for  having  brought  him  to  the  Cabeza  de  Toro. 
He  looked  wildly  up  and  caught  sight  of  the  saint's  picture.  As  a 
last  resort  he  uttered  a  fervent  prayer  to  Saint  Anthony  to  get 
him  out  of  the  scrape.  Just  at  this  moment  the  crowd  parted  and 
revealed  Guy  overpowered  by  a  half  dozen  men,  while  Manuel  Ruiz 
was  in  the  custody  of  as  many  more. 

tffYou  cowardly  dogs!  You  are  none  of  you  a  match  f or _ that 
American  boy.  If  it  had  not  been  for  me  and  this  good  knife,  you 
would  have  killed  him  for  resenting  an  insult  from  that  dog  of  a 
Vasquez." 

The  words  from  Ruiz  infuriated  the  crowd,  who  would  have 
offered  him  violence,  had  not  a  short,  thick-set,  military  man  inter- 
fered and  brandished  his  sword  to  keep  them  back. 

"Release  Senor  Ruiz,"  he  said,  in  a  firm  tone. 

The  command  was  obeyed. 

Guy  had  ceased  to  struggle  with  his  captors  and  now  stood  passive. 
His  bare  head  and  disheveled  hair,  his  torn  jacket  and  a  bloody  mark 
on  his  cheek  were  evidences  of  the  rough  handling  he  had  sustained. 
He  had  left  his  mark  on  many  of  his  antagonists,  whose  bloody  physi- 
ognomies proved  that  his  blows  had  not  fallen  lightly,  while  his  first 
assailant  was  completely  hors  du  combat. 

So  soon  as  qiuet  was  restored,  the  officer  demanded  of  Ruiz  the 
cause  of  the  broil. 

"This  young  man  was  called  a  murderer  and  a  thief  by  a  fellow 
named  Vasquez  and,  like  a  man  of  courage,  he  knocked  down  his 
insulter.  He  was  then  set  upon  by  these  cowards,  who  would  have 
killed  him  but  for  my  efforts  to  prevent  them  and  his  own  bravery 
in  defending  himself." 

"Why  did  Vasquez  use  such  language  to  the  young  man  ?" 

"Quien  sabe,  senor.    The  fellow  never  saw  him  before." 

"No  es  verdad  I"  said  a  voice,  as  the  owner  of  it  limped  forward. 

"Who  are  you?"  demanded  the  officer. 

"Yo?    Yo  soy  Vasquez,"  making  a  salute. 

"What  is  it  that  you  say  is  not  true  ?" 

"That  I  never  saw  this  Gringo  before,"  he  replied,  looking  towards 
Guy. 

"Was  that  any  reason  that  you  should  call  him  bad  names?" 

"Oyez,  senor.  Let  me  tell  you  the  whole  story,  and  Your  Honor 
will  say  that  I  am  in  the  right,  and  that  this  Americano,  Tejano  or 
Gringo,  or  whatever  he  is,  ought  to  be  punished. 


GUY  KAYMOND.  97 

"Buen ;  proceed  with  your  story." 

"Senor,  it  is  more  than  a  year  that  I  and  my  brother  were  com- 
ing to  Bexar  from  Paso  del  Norte,  with  some  caretas  of  Don  Pedro 
Sandoval,  when  we  were  attacked  by  a  band  of  Indians  near  el  Rio 
Pecos.  We  gave  them  the  best  fight  we  could  make,  but  they  cap- 
tured our  train  and  killed  all  of  our  men  but  four,  including  myself. 
Strange  to  say,  among  these  Indians,  and  they  were  Lipans,  senor,  was 
a  young  Gringo  who  fought  like  a  devil.  He  killed  my  brother  with 
his  rifle  and  took  his  horse,  saddle  and  bridle.  The  man  who  did  this 
is  before  Your  Honor,  and  is  the  one  I  called  a  murderer  and  a  thief." 

"You  may  be  mistaken,  Vasquez." 

"ISTo  es  possible,  Your  Honor.  This  fellow  came  in  town  only 
today,  dressed  as  an  Indian,  and  he  has  sold  my  brother's  saddle  to 
the  Monte  Pio." 

"What  have  you  to  say  to  this,  senor?"  asked  the  officer,  turning 
to  Guy. 

The  latter  made  no  reply. 

"Perhaps  he  cannot  speak  Mexican." 

"You  are  wrong  there,  senor,"  said  Vasquez,  "you  should  have 
heard  him  talk  when  he  was  winning  all  that  money.  El  habla  puro 
Mexicano,  senor." 

"Es  un  diablo  para  pelear,"  said  a  bystander,  with  a  closed  eye. 

•'Es  la  verdad,"  chimed  in  Vasquez,  "for  my  poor  nose  is  broken." 

"Do  you  speak  Spanish?"  asked  the  officer. 

"Si,  senor,"  Guy  replied,  stiffly. 

•''Are  these  charges  of  Vasquez  true?" 

"I  will  answer  at  the  proper  time." 

"Are  you  an  American?" 

"I  am,  sir." 

"Tejano?" 

"Yes,  a  colonist." 

"What  are  you  doing  in  San  Antonio?" 

"Only  passing  through." 

"Have  you  a  pass?" 

"I  was  a  captive  among  the  Indians.  I  made  my  escape  only  five 
days  ago  and  this  is  the  first  settlement  I  have  reached.  I  came  in 
today  with  your  priest." 

"Every  word  that  he  says  is  true,"  Jose  ventured  to  suggest.  I 
came  in  with  Father  Ignacio  and  Senor  Raymond  came  with  us,  from 
the  San  Geronimo.  Oh !  Dios,"  he  continued,  aside,  "what  will  the 
padre  say  to  me  about  this  scrape  I  have  got  Senor  Raymond  into?" 

"You  will  have  to  account  well  for  being  inside  of  our  lines,  or 


98  GUY  RAYMOND. 

it  will  go  hard  with  you.  Besides  you  will  have  to  answer  to  the 
charge  made  by  Vasquez,"  said  the  officer,  sternly. 

"Senor,"  replied  Ruiz,  "the  young  man  has  informed  you  of  his 
escape  from  the  Indians,  and  if  he  was  long  a  captive,  he  could  not 
know  that  we  are  in  a  state  of  war  with  his  countrymen." 

"I  do  not  want  any  explanations  from  you,  Senor  Ruiz.  You  are 
not  free  from  suspicion  yourself." 

The  officer  here  gave  a  signal  and  a  file  of  soldiers  entered,  in 
charge  of  a  sergeant.  Giving  the  latter  some  instructions  in  a  low 
tone,  he  left  the  monte  room. 

Guy  understood  at  a  glance  that  he  was  in  the  custody  of  a  mili- 
tary patrol,  and  had  no  doubt  that  he  was  to  go  to  prison.  When 
the  sergeant  ordered  him  to  fall  in,  in  front  of  the  soldiers,  he  did 
so  at  once  and  was  marched  out  into  the  street. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Guy's  surmise  as  to  his  destination  was  correct.  The  patrol  had 
very  few  steps  to  make  before  they  reached  the  entrance  of  the  carcel. 
They  entered  the  corridor  connecting  the  street  and  the  court  within, 
and  the  prisoner  found  himself  in  a  paved  yard,  not  unlike  the  one 
at  Father  Ignacio's,  where  he  had  performed  his  ablutions  in  com- 
pany with  Senor  Gonzales.  A  dreary  light  from  a  lantern,  which 
swung  from  the  rear  wall  and  barely  made  objects  discernable,  dis- 
closed a  sentinel  walking  beneath  it.  Small,  grated  windows  looked 
in  upon  the  court  from  high  places  in  the  masonry  in  the  southern 
wall,  indicating  the  positions  of  the  prison  cells  they  were  intended 
to  ventilate.  The  sergeant  brought  the  patrol  to  a  halt,  then  spoke 
to  the  sentinel,  who  immediaely  knocked  at  a  door  in  the  wall  oppo- 
site the  cells.  After  repeating  the  summons,  the  door  slowly  opened 
and  sufficiently  to  admit  the  passage  of  a  round,  fat  head,  which  pro- 
truded itself  and  in  an  effiminate  voice,  demanded : 

"Que  cosa  es?" 

"Abra  la  puerta,  viejo ;  we  have  a  nice  young  Gringo  for  you.  If 
you  know  what  is  good  for  yourself  you  had  better  put  him  in  your 
safest  cage,  for  he  is  a  strong  bird." 

"Where  did  you  catch  this  pajorro,  tan  fuerte?  Have  you  had  a 
battle,  and  is  this  one  of  the  prisoners?" 

"No,  tonto.  The  fight  was  only  a  fisticuff,  and  this  young  savage, 
who  is  a  kind  of  Lipan,  broke  half  a  dozen  noses,  and  closed  up  as 
many  more  eyes  before  they  secured  him." 


GUY  RAYMOND.  99 

"Wait  until  I  get  my  keys,"  said  the  owner  of  the  fat  head,  as 
he  drew  it  in  again. 

He  soon  reappeared  muttering: 

"Pajarro  muy  fuerte,  pajarro  muy  fuerte." 

The  rotund  form  of  the  jailer  was  in  keeping  with  his  head. 

He  strode  along  the  paved  court  with  a  shuffling  pace  to  retain 
possession  of  his  buckskin  slippers,  into  which  his  feet  were  thrust, 
without  regard  to  the  exposure  of  his  bare  yellow  heels,  just  visible 
under  the  bottoms  of  his  loose  trousers,  that  depended  in  remarkable 
fullness  from  a  waist  past  the  medium  of  corpulency.  He  thrust  a 
heavy  iron  key  into  the  lock  of  a  door  to  the  left  on  the  corridor  and, 
while  doing  so,  he  scanned  the  features  of  the  prisoner  from  under 
his  elevated  left  hand.  The  door  yielded  to  his  pressure  and  mo- 
tioning to  the  sergeant  to  bring  on  his  man,  he  enterd,  repeating  to 
himself : 

"Pajarro  fuerte." 

Guy,  obeying  the  order  to  follow  the  jailer,  found  himself  in  a 
narrow  passage  and  could  dimly  distinguish  another  doorway,  just 
as  he  heard  a  movement  of  a  rusty  bolt,  followed  by  the  deeper  dark- 
ness of  a  cell  that  became  apparent  as  the  door  opened. 

"Entre,"  commanded  the  fine  voice  of  the  jailer. 

Guy  half  hesitated,  when  the  sergeant  assisted  him  by  a  plight 
push.  The  door  was  quickly  closed,  the  rusty  bolt  grated  harshly 
as  it  shot  into  place,  and  the  cell  was  filled  with  inky  darkness. 

Left  alone  to  his  reflections,  Guy  stood  for  a  while  motionless, 
half  dazed  by  the  change  which  a  few  minutes  had  made  in  his  for- 
tunes. The  monte  room  pictured  itself  before  him ;  the  dealer  with 
the  cards,  slowly  manipulating  them,  the  crowd,  interested,  wondering- 
at  his  strange  luck,  the  sinister  expression  of  those  eyes  in  which  he  had 
divined  mischief  to  himself,  his  subsequent  collision  with  their  owner 
and  his  struggle  with  the  mob,  all  passed  rapidly  through  his  mind. 
And  his  winnings?  His  hand  sought  his  pocket,  but  he  remembered 
that  he  had  entrusted  every  cent  to  Buiz,  the  gallant  fellow  who  came 
to  his  assistance.  The  latter  had  proven  a  better  comrade  than  the 
timid  Jose,  whom  he  had  seen  looking  wild  and  irresolute  while 
Manuel  was  uttering  the  tirade  against  his  assailants.  Even  the  little 
senorita,  with  whom  he  had  waltzed,  looked  at  him  with  her  soft  eyes 
from  the  mental  panorama  that  passed  before  him.  What  would 
Father  Ignacio  say  when  his  erring  mozo,  Jose,  would  communicate 
the  news  of  his  mishap,  brought  about  by  his  well  intended  chaperon- 


ing?" 


As  the  subject  matter  of  his  thoughts  terminated    in    flu1  rapid 


100  GUY  EAYMOND. 

digestion  of  all  the  incidents  of  the  evening,  a  feeling  akin  to  despair 
weighed  upon  him  for  a  moment.  It  was  only  for  a  moment,  for, 
raising  his  head,  he  caught  the  lighter  shade  of  the  heavens  in  a 
space  scarcely  larger  than  a  hand,  in  the  midst  of  which  glimmered 
the  soft,  silver  light  of  a  star.  As  trivial  as  was  this  circumstance, 
his  heart  sent  back  a  greeting  to  the  celestial  monitor  that,  of  all  the 
universe,  was  peeping  at  him  through  that  little  space  of  the  window 
of  his  cell.  He  groped  about,  feeling  to  discover  what  objects,  ani- 
mate or  inanimate,  might  be  his  co-occupants.  Nothing  more  than 
the  bare,  damp  walls.  Not  a  seat  to  rest  upon.  He  did  not  expect 
to  find  a  bed.  He  walked  slowly  up  and  down  the  narrow  limits, 
pausing  at  every  turn  to  look  at  the  star,  the  only  object  he  could 
see  in  the  whole  universe.  He  began  to  feel  very  weary,  when  the 
noise  of  the  sliding  bolt  arrested  his  attention.  The  next  moment 
the  door  of  the  cell  opened  and  the  peculiar  voice  of  the  jailer  sang 
out: 

"Aqui  esta  su  cama." 

A  rustling  noise  on  the  floor  indicated  that  something  had  been 
tossed  in.  The  door  closed,  the  bolt  shot  forward  to  its  place,  and 
all  again  was  quiet. 

Guy,  on  examining  his  acquisition,  discovered  it  to  be  a  tick  of 
cornshucks,  amply  filled,  but  too  short  for  a  comfortable  bed.  He 
stretched  it  out  to  its  full  length,  however,  and  improvising  his  coat 
for  a  pillow,  laid  himself  down  for  a  rest,  without  any  hope  of  being 
able  to  sleep.  He  was  exceedingly  weary,  having  had  little  repose 
since  the  early  morning,  to  which  was  added  the  effects  of  his  struggle 
with  the  crowd  after  he  had  disabled  his  denouncer,  Yasquez.  He 
had  escaped  with  little  injury,  sundry  bruises  about  his  head  being 
the  extent  of  the  damage  to  his  person.  He  continued  awake  for  a 
long  time,  nursing  his  thoughts  and  speculating  as  to  the  outcome 
of  his  present  predicament,  when  he  gradually  lapsed  into  a  dreamy 
slumber. 

Jose  had  kept  in  sight  of  his  unfortunate  American  friend  until 
the  darkness  of  the  prison  corridor  shut  him  out  from  view.  He 
heaved  a  sigh  and  uttered  a  Spanish  imprecation  as  he  turned 
towards  the  plaza.  He  was  about  to  pass  the  tienda  of  the  Senora 
Candelario,  when  he  observed  Manuel  Euiz,  seated  at  one  of  the  tables 
in  her  establishment,  with  his  head  leaning  on  his  hand,  as  if  ab- 
sorbed in  deep  reflection.  Anxious  to  find  sympathy  in  his  dilemma, 
Jose  immediately  entered  the  shop,  seated  himself  opposite  to  his 
friend,  and  placing  both  elbows  on  the  table  aped,  without  intending 
it,  the  position  of  the  other. 


GUY  KAYMOND.  101 

"You  are  not  playing  monkey,  are  you?"  asked  Ruiz,  rather  in- 
dignantly. "I  feel  too  mad  to  stand  any  foolishness,  and  the  business 
we  have  just  been  through  is  too  serious  for  aping." 

"Not  so  serious  with  you,  amigo,  as  it  is  with  me.  If  you  had  to 
tell  Father  Ignacio  what  I  will  have  to  tell  in  the  morning,  and  then 
to  confess  it  besides — Oh,  Dios !  That  my  mother  never  had  borne 
me!" 

"It  is  for  yourself  that  you  feel  then.  If  I  could  have  rescued 
that  gallant  boy,  I  would  be  willing  to  face  a  thousand  priests,  and 
confess  every  sin  in  the  calendar.  It  is  his  imprisonment  in  that 
infernal  jail  that  I  regret." 

"I  am  as  sorry  as  you,  Manuel;  but  was  it  not  lucky  that  he  gave 
you  the  ninety  pesos." 

"D n  the  money !     It  i?  of  him  I  am  thinking." 

"But  if  he  had  kept  the  money,  those  soldiers  or  old  Bonito  would 
have  got  it.  Now,  you  can  keep  it  for  Senor  Raymond  until  he  gets 
out." 

"If  he  ever  gets  out!" 

"Don't  say  that,  Manuel." 

"I  tell  you,  these  are  serious  times,  and  he  may  be  shot  as  a  spy, 
even  if  he  gets  clear  of  the  Vasquez  matter." 

"Get  him  free  from,  that,  and  I  am  certain  he  will  never  be  shot, 
with  Father  Ignacio  here  to  account  for  him." 

"But  how  to  shut  Yasquez's  mouth?" 

"It  was  his  brother's  saddle  and  Senor  Eaymond  got  me  to  sell 
it  to  the  Monte  Pio.  That  proof  would  fail,  but  he  recognizes  in 
him  the  slayer  of  his  brother." 

"Has  the  fellow  anything." 

Basques?" 


^ 


asquez." 

"No,  not  a  quartilla,  but  what  he  picks  up  here  and  there  at  odd 
times.  He  lives  around  the  Cabeza  cle  Toro  and  owes  the  women  for 
tortillas.  He  is  lower  than  a  peon." 

"Then  I  have  an  idea  how  to  shut  his  mouth,"  said  Ruiz,  striking 
the  table  with  his  hand. 

Como?"  asked  Jose,  electrified  by  the  hopeful  suggestion, 
will  do  it  with  Senor  Raymond's  money." 
on  todo  ?    With  every  cent  ?    The  idea  is  capital !    But,  amigo. 
all  those  ninety  pesos !     Why,   a  third  of  that  amount  would 
appear,  to  that  wretch's  eyes,  like  a  great  fortune.     No,  Manuel,  it 
would  be  a  shame  to  bestow  such  an  amount  on  such  an  object." 
"Well,  if  he  takes  a  part,  all  right ;  but  what  are  ninety  pesos  com- 
•nA  with  that  young  fellow's  freedom?" 


102  GUY  EAYMOND. 

"Es  verdad ;  but,  Manuel,  not  the  whole  ninety." 

"Your  mind  dwells  on  small  matters,  Jose,  when  great  ones  are 
at  stake.  I  feel  better,  now  that  I  can  see  some  hope  for  our  friend, 
and  with  hope  returns  my  vagrant  appetite.  Oyez,  Senora!  Dos 
platas  de  chile  con  came,  con  tortillas  y  frejoles." 

The  summons  and  order  were  heard  by  the  senora,  who  had  peeped 
in  from  time  to  time,  and  had  caught  snatches  of  the  conversation, 
feeling  confident  that  their  order  would  follow  shortly.  Soon  two 
smoking  dishes  of  the  savory  preparation  ordered  were  placed  in  front 
of  the  men,  with  a  third  plate  of  tortillas. 

"I  was  to  bring  Senor  Kaymond  here  tonight,  after  we  had  taken 
in  the  Cabeza  de  Toro,"  said  Jose,  with  a  half  sigh,  cut  short  by  his 
first  mouthful  of  supper.  "Instead  of  supping  here,  he  is  now  in 
prison,  and  the  money  he  won  so  beautifully  on  deposit  for  the  beast 
who  caused  his  misfortune.  Manuel,  did  it  ever  occur  to  you  what 
kind  of  a  world  this  is?" 

"The  old  padre,  who  taught  me,  impressed  me  with  the  idea  that 
it  was  round." 

"I  don't  mean  its  shape.  I  mean  the  circumstances  of  life,  the 
events  which  shape  destinies,  the  influences  which  affect  our  for- 
tunes." 

"You  didn't  find  that  in  Father  Ignacio's  books.  He  accounts, 
no  doubt,  for  good  and  bad  fortunes  as  special  acts  of  Providence. 
Take  care,  Jose!  Any  drifting  into  a  different  philosophy  will  add 
to  the  already  heavy  penances  in  store  for  you." 

"Qwe  bruto!  To  call  me  back  to  that  dreaded  subject,  when  I 
had  just  got  it  out  of  my  head." 

"Very  well,  I  will  relieve  you  of  my  presence  and  you  can  find 
your  way  to  bed,  while  I  search  for  Vasquez  and— 

"Don't,  Manuel,  pay  him  all — not  the  whole  ninety — to  such, 
a " 

Before  Jose  could  finish  what  he  was  going  to  say,  Euiz  had 
hurriedly  left  the  place  and  was  out  of  sight.  The  deserted  major 
domo  called  to  Senora  Candekrio,  who  promptly  appeared. 

"What  will  Don  Jose  have?"  she  inquired. 

"Call  me  not  Don  Jose!  Call  me  a  burro — bruto — or  anything. 
Here  is  the  money  for  our  suppers." 

"Gracias,  senor,  but  what  is  the  matter  that  you  are  so  worried  ?" 

"Enough  is  the  matter,"  said  Jose,  approaching  the  street  door. 

"Has  the  fight  over  the  way  anything  to  do  with  your  trouble?" 

"Everything.  A  young  friend — an  American — has  been  put  in 
the  carcel  for  breaking  the  noses  of  a  dozen  peons  who  set  upon  him." 


GUY  RAYMOND.  103 

"Is  it  the  young  man  who  came  with  el  padre  Ignacio  ?" 

"The  same." 

"Is  he  a  friend  of  the  padre?" 

"He  has  taken  a  great  fancy  to  him." 

"Then  why  hother  about  it.  Surely  the  friend  of  el  padre  Ignacio 
will  come  to  no  harm.  Go  at  once  and  tell  him/' 

"There's  the  trouble.  If  I  had  not  taken  him  there  he  would 
not  now  be  a  prisoner.  The  blame  will  rest  on  me,  and  telling  it 
may  cost  me  my  place.  My  young  friend  was  to  take  supper  here 
with  me." 

"You  are  a  good  customer,  Jose.  Poor  young  fellow !  Perhaps  he 
has  had  no  supper." 

"Not  he !  Old  Bonito  would  not  take  the  trouble  to  hand  him  a 
cold  tortilla." 

"He  shall  have  his  breakfast  then,  for  Bonito  will  be  glad  to  let 
me  furnish  it." 

"Good  Candelario!" 

"Where  did  Senor  Ruiz  go  in  such  a  hurry?" 

"He  is  half  out  of  his  wits.  To  think  of  giving  ninety  pesos  to 
a  peon,  to  whom  five  would  look  like  a  fortune.  He  has  gone  in 
search  of  the  fellow  who  caused  all  the  trouble.  For  ninety  pesos 
I  would  take  myself  off.  Buenas  noches,  Candelario,"  and  Jose  went 
out  into  the  street. 

"Una  cosa  muy  triste,"  sighed  the  senora,  as  she  turned  back  into 
her  shop. 

Instead  of  going  towards  home,  Jose  proceeded  slowly  down  the 
street  until  he  came  to  the  vinoteria.  He  looked  in  and  saw  three 
or  four  soldiers  at  a  table  in  the  further  end.  After  a  moment's 
hesitation  he  entered  and,  taking  a  seat,  called  for  something  to 
drink.  A  pottery  jug  with  a  mug  was  placed  before  him  by  the 
shop  tender. 

When  Ruiz  left  Jose  so  unceremoniously  he  made  his  way  directly 
to  the  Cabeza  de  Toro.  He  there  looked  in  every  nook  and  corner, 
but  the  object  of  his  search  could  not  be  seen.  Gambling  was  still 
in  progress  in  the  monte  room,  whose  atmosphere  was  almost  stifling 
from  tobacco  smoke.  The  chink  of  silver  and  the  even,  musical 
voices  of  the  crowd  went  on  as  if  no  undue  excitement  had  lately 
disturbed  the  quiet  of  the  place.  In  the  danceroom  the  baile  was 
at  its  height,  and  Ruiz  was  scarcely  noticed  as  he  elbowed  his  way, 
scrutinizing  the  faces  of  the  men.  He  sat  down,  rather  impatiently, 
and  concluded  to  wait  until  the  dansa,  then  playing,  was  over.  The 
music  ceased  and  a  young  girl  seated  herself  near  to  him.  She  was 


104  GUY  RAYMOND. 

the  same  with  whom  Guy  had  waltzed.  A  sudden  impulse,  probably 
induced  by  a  desire  for  some  kind  of  sympathy,  caused  him  to  com- 
municate with  her  the  misfortune  of  her  late  partner. 

"Que  mala  gente!"  she  exclaimed.  "To  put  such  a  pretty  fellow 
in  that  dirty  carcel." 

"He  was  brave.  You  should  have  seen  him  easily  handle  a  half 
dozen  men/' 

"And  what  a  skin  he  has!     I  would  bet  he  has  a  pretty  sister." 

"The  Americans  are  all  brave." 

"And  so  handsome." 

"Well,  I  am  off  to  see  what  I  can  do  for  your  pretty  partner." 

"Oh,  Manuel!     Can  I  help  you?" 

"You,  little  one!  What  could  you  do?"  and  Ruiz  strode  away, 
glancing  back  with  a  half  smile  at  the  girl. 

Out  in  the  fresh  air  once  more  Ruiz  walked  on  mechanically  until 
he  found  himself  in  the  plaza.  He  turned  to  the  right,  down  the 
sidewalk  leading  to  where,  half  a  block  ahead,  the  light  from  the 
Monte  Pio's  streamed  into  the  open  square.  When  near  the  door  he 
could  hear  voices  and  when  opposite,  he  paused  and  saw,  to  his  satis- 
faction, Vasquez,  the  object  of  his  search. 

He  quickly  entered.  High  words  were  passing  between  that  in- 
dividual and  another  worthy,  but  little  more  respectable  in  appear- 
ance. Vasquez,  who  was  in  his  shirt  sleeves  and  hatless,  had  his 
swollen  eye  bandaged  and  was  in  the  act  of  pulling  off  his  shoes. 

"Pull  them  off,  you  rascal !"  the  other  was  saying.  "You  lied  to 
me  to  get  the  money,  and  now  you  must  pawn  those  shoes  to  pay 
me  or  I  will  give  you  a  worse  beating  than  did  that  young  Gringo." 

Ruiz  made  inquiry  of  Vasquez  concerning  the  trouble  between  him 
and  the  other  and  having  fully  posted  himself,  prepared  to  carry 
out  his  scheme. 

"Look  here,  fellow !  You  have  the  heart  of  a  dog  to  force  a  poor, 
wounded  devil  to  give  up  his  shoes  for  a  trifle  of  four  reals.  Here 
is  your  money.  You,  Vasquez,  keep  on  your  shoes.  Where  is  your 
hat?" 

"Senor,  the  Monte  Pio  gave  me  three  reals  on  it,  to  pay  that  same 
fellow.  I  borrowed  the  money,  hoping  to  win,  but  I  had  bad  luck 
tonight." 

"Here  is  your  hat.    You  owe  me  seven  reals  now." 

"Mil  gracias,  senor.     I  am  your  servant." 

"Come,  Vasquez,  I  have  something  to  say  to  you  for  your  own 
good,"  said  Ruiz,  leading  the  way  out  to  the  plaza. 

"For  my  good?    You  have  been  so  good  to  me  already." 


GUY  EAYMOND.  105 

"Yes,  but  you  are  in  great  danger,  and  I  found  it  out  merely 
by  chance." 

"What  is  it,  senor?" 

"The  young  man,  the  American  you  had  arrested." 

"What  about  him  ?" 

"You  were  mistaken  about  him — about  his  being  with  the  Indians." 

"But " 

"Hush,  and  I  will  show  that  you  are  honestly  mistaken.  You 
noticed  how  well  he  speaks  our  language?" 

"Si,  senor,  like  a  Mexican." 

"Well,  he  is  American  born,  but  he  is  an  adopted  son  of  el  prese- 
dente,  Don  Antonio  Lopez  de  Santa  Anna,  and  came  only  this  morn- 
ing with  the  president's  chief  of  staff." 

"For  Dios  !     Lo  que  dice  V.,  es  la  verdad  ?" 

"As  true  as  there  stands  San  Fernando." 

"Oh,  senor,  what  will  I  do  ?"  ' 

"Remain  here  and  get  shot,  or  get  out  of  the  way  and  join  .the 
colonists,  or — or,  do  something." 

"If  I  had  a  horse  I  would  leave  tonight,  right  now,  but,  senor,  I 
have  not  a  quartilla." 

Ruiz  reflected  a  moment. 

"I  have  it!"  he  said.  "I  am  glad  I  thought  of  it.  The  Texans 
are  not  far  from  here  and  I  have  something  to  send  to  the  com- 
mander, General  Austin.  You  can  take  it  for  me.  It  is  a  package 
of  money.  Will  you  do  this  for  me?" 

"Senor!     Would  you  trust  me?" 

"Why  not?  You  would  not  be  fool  enough  to  stay  here  and  get 
shot.  Besides,  I  will  give  you  some  money  for  yourself.  You  know, 
with  money,  a  man  can  go  most  anywhere.  The  quicker  you  get 
out  of  this,  the  .safer  will  be  your  head." 

"I  will  do  just  what  you  tell  me,  senor." 

"Follow  me,  then." 

Ruiz  turned  into  the  Calle  de  Carcel  and  directed  his  steps 
towards  the  tienda  where  he  had  left  Jose  so  unceremoniously.  Senora 
Candelario  had  closed  for  the  night,  but  a  faint  light  came  from  the 
vinoteria,  a  little  farther  on.  Keeping  an  eye  on  his  protege,  Ruiz 
continued  down  the  narrow  pavement  and  entered  the  latter  place.  It 
was  apparently  deserted  by  all  but  the  shop  boy,  who  was  dozing  in  a 
corner.  The  noise  made  by  the  comers  awakened  him. 

"How  can  I  serve  you,  senor  ?"  he  inquired,  rousing  up  as  he  spoke. 

"My  good  boy,  it  is  nearly  time  you  were  closing  for  the  night 
arid  I  will  take  the  liberty  to  shut  your  street  door  for  a  few  moments, 


106  GUY  KAYMOND. 

and  will  pay  you  well  if  you  should  imagine  that'  it  has  cost  you 
anything.  Here  are  four  reals  as  a  pledge  for  what  I  say.  I  have 
a  little  private  business  with  this  honorable  gentleman  and  do  not 
wish  to  be  interrupted." 

The  boy  took  the  money,  while  Euiz  closed  the  entrance  from  the 
street. 

"Now,  my  little  friend,  you  step  into  the  back  room  and  allow 
no  one  to  bother  us  for  a  while." 

After  the  boy  had  retired,  Ruiz  turned  to  Vasquez. 

"Now,  what  is  your  full  name?" 

"Enrique  Jose  Maria." 

"You  have  name  enough,  at  all  events,  if  you  are  a  pauper," 
thought  Ruiz,  as  he  took  a  lot  of  silver  from  his  pockets  and  counted 
it  on  the  table. 

"Ten,  twenty,  thirty,  forty,"  he  called,  as  he  shoved  four  stacks 
of  pesos  to  one  side. 

A  v.oice  in  a  corner  repeated  the  enumeration  and  caused  Ruiz 
to  look  in  the  direction  whence  came  the  sound ;.  but  seeing  nothing, 
he  concluded  it  was  an  echo.  He  rolled  up  this  money  in  his  hand- 
kerchief and  then  counted  and  stacked  ten  more  pesos. 

"Well,  Senor  Don  Enrique  Jose  Maria  Vasquez,  here  is  a  package 
containing  forty  pesos,  which  you  are  to  deliver  to  General  Austin, 
the  commander  of  the  Texans,  now  in  camp  on^  el  rio  Cibolo.  He  is 
a  friend  of  mine  and  will  take  care  of  you.  Here  are  ten  pesos  for 
yourself.  You  know  the  country  well.  Do  not  get  caught  or  your 
life  will  be  forfeited." 

"Mil  gracias,  senor.    All  shall  be  done  as  you  command'." 

"Can  you  read?" 

"No,  senor." 

"I  thought  of  sending  a  letter  by  you,  but  it. is  best  that  you 
carry  nothing  indicating  your  destination.  Now  be  off  and  do  not 
let  tomorrow's  sun  see  you  in  Bexar." 

"Adios,  senor,"  and  Yasquez  was  disposed  of. 

"Al  diablo,"  said  Ruiz,  as  he  went  to  the  door  and  looked  after 
the  fellow  as  he  disappeared  in  the  darkness. 

"Fifty  pesos  did  the  work,"  muttered  Ruiz,  turning  towards  the 
back  door. 

"Is  it  you,  Manuel?"  asked  an  unsteady  voice  in  the  shadow  of 
the  opposite  corner. 

Ruiz  saw,  with  surprise,  the  half  recumbant  form  of  Jose  gazing 
stupidly  at  him,  with  his  hand  shading  his  eyes. 

"You  here !    And  I  thought  I  was  alone." 


GUY  RAYMOND.  107 

"Hie!     Did  you  give  the  fellow  the  ninety  pesos?" 
"Buarachon !     I  did  not  know  you  ever  got  drunk/' 
"For  via  de  mi  madre !    Manuel  el  padre  se  anoho  con  migo." 
"Come,  you  poor  devil.     I  will  see  you  home." 
Euiz  helped  the  inebriate  to  his  feet,  and  led  him  out  of  the 
vinoteria, 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

When  Guy  awoke,  after  having  fallen  alseep  on  his  rude  prison 
bed,  the  light  of  morning  had  penetrated  through  the  high,  deep  win- 
dow into  the  recesses  of  his  apartment.  As  his  eyes  grew  accustomed 
to  the  varying  shades  that  hung  about  the  rough  and  mildewed 
walls,  they  wandered  inquisitively  over  every  foot  of  surface,  as  his 
thoughts  mingled  the  quaint  appearance  of  his  surroundings  with 
the  strange  mischance  which  had  consigned  him  to  a  cell.  Deep 
fissures  and  jagged  points  everywhere  appeared  in  the  masonry,  pre- 
dominating in  number  in  the  arched  ceiling.  From  these  his  glance 
was  directed  to  the  opening,  as  he  remembered  the  little  star,  that 
had  peeped  into  his  solitude  and  cheered  his  faltering  courage.  He 
thought  over  his  case. 

Its  most  serious  aspect  was  doubtless  involved  in  the  charge  of 
the  fellow  who  called  himself  Vasquez.  The  saddle,  which  had 
betrayed  him,  must  have  belonged  to  the  man's  brother,  else  the 
true  story  of  the  fight  and  the  recognition  of  the  property  could  not 
have  followed,  so  quickly,  his  arrival  in  the  town.  Indeed,  he  himself 
had  been  recognized,  unless  the  presence  of  Jose  had  betrayed  his 
identity,  as  the  party  who  had  authorized  the  sale  of  the  saddle  to 
the  Monte  Pio.  He  rose  from  his  bed  not  very  much  rested,  his  limbs 
stiff,  and  a  dull,  heavy  ache  about  his  temples.  A  basin  of  cold 
water  to  lave  his  head  would  have  been  worth  more  money  than  all 
that  his  strange  luck  had  brought  him  but  a  few  hours  before. 

What  had  become  of  that  array  of  silver  dollars  which  had  made 
the  eyes  of  Jose  glisten  with  eagerness?  Ruiz  would  probably  keep 
it  for  him  or  entrust  it  to  the  major  domo.  It  might  possibly  help 
him  some  in  his  difficulty.  But  the  termination  of  every  speculation 
as  to  his  liberation  would  be  the  hope  he  had  in  the  friendship  and 
influence  of  the  good  priest  of  San  Fernando.  He,  of  all  persons, 
was  incorruptible.  He  had  been  pronounced  by  his  most  intimate 
underling  to  be  a  living  saint  and  appeared  to  be  the  terror  of  that 
worthy  whenever  he  suspected  the  piqus  father  had  discovered  any 
of  his  lapses  from  a  prescribed  rectitude  either  in  religious  or  secular 
matters. 


108  GUY  RAYMOND. 

Guy's  reflections  were  interrupted  by  the  sounds  of  the  jailor's 
voice,  the  tones  indicating  displeasure.  Old  Bonito,  as  the  sergeant 
had  called  him,  appeared  to  be  in  altercation  with  someone  whom 
he  would  not  allow  to  enter  from  the  corridor.  Although  the  young 
prisoner  was  possessed  equally  of  resignation  and  resolution,  still  the 
sound  of  the  voice  was  pleasant  and  welcome.  His  father  had  in- 
culcated in  his  son's  disposition  much  of  his  own  self-reliant  philoso- 
phy. At  fifteen  his  thoughts  had  expanded  from  the  chrysalis  of 
traditionary  channels  to  the  transcendant  realms  of  speculative  in- 
quiry. His  Indian  life  had  been  a  study  of  nature.  The  instincts 
of  the  savage,  which  placed  him  beyond  the  pale  of  a  civilization  that 
lowered  him  by  its  arbitrary  standard  of  morality,  were  offset  and 
even  overbalanced  by  the  gilded  vices  and  insatiate  rapacity  of  his 
white  brother.  The  stoic  fortitude  of  the  Lipans  had  impressed  their 
young  prsoner  with  a  feeling  of  admiration  for  a  racial  characteristic 
that  held  in  contempt  a  display  of  fear  or  weakness  in  any  vicissitude. 

The  voices  outside  had  ceased  for  many  minutes,  when  he  heard 
the  shuffling  step  of  the  jailer  approaching.  A  rap  followed. 

"Senor  Pajarro!     Are  you  awake?" 

Guy  remained  silent. 

"Oyez,  senor!" 

"The  bird  cannot  be  flown,"  muttered  Bonito.  "I'll  just  open 
the  door  and  see  if  he  is  dead,  deaf  or  asleep." 

He  unlocked  the  door  and  cautiously  opened  it.  Guy  stood  before 
him,  erect,  with  a  stern  expression  in  his  eyes  as  they  encountered 
those  of  the  jailer. 

"Por  Dios !     Senor  Pajarro  has  bad  eyes." 

"My  name  is  Raymond,  Senor  Bonito,  and  if  you  wish  to  keep 
on  the  good  side  of  me  you  had  better  drop  your  nicknames." 

"Senor  Raymond,  your  servant!  You  cannot  be  half  so  vicious 
as  the  sergeant  would  have  one  believe.  Ciertamente,  siempre,  Senor 
Raymond.  No  more  nicknames.  The  sergeant  introduced  you  as 
Senor  Pajarro;  Pajarro,  fuerte;  but  now  Senor  Raymond.  Stupid 
sergeant!  Bonito  is  a  nickname  for  me,  but  I  have  long  ceased  to 
mind  it,  for  honestly,  senor,  my  true  name  is  something  wonderful 
for  length,  the  fault  of  my  parents,  however.  Strangers,  and  even 
some  intimate  acquaintances,  could  never  remember  it,  and  therefore 
I  submitted  to  my  nickname.  I  always  answer  to  Bonito.  I  hope 
you  slept  well  last  night,  although  your  bed  was  none  of  the  best. 
They  don't  furnish  me  with  beds  for  prisoners  and  this  bag  of  shucks 
was  all  that  could  be  found  among  my  own  effects.  I  will  never  get 
pay  for  this  act  of  my  charity;  but' Bonito  manages  to  keep  even 


GUY  RAYMOND.  109 

from  certain  tricks  of  his  own.  For  instance,  I  will  charge  for  your 
breakfast  this  morning  when  it  is  not  my  intention  to  furnish  you 
with  a  morsel.  Not  that  I  could  have  a  heart  to  starve  my  prisoner, 
but  I  have  my  permission  asked,  by  a  senora  who  makes  the  best 
dishes  in  the  town,  that  she  may  have  the  honor  of  providing  you 
with  a  breakfast.  Of  course,  my  permission  was  given,  for  I  will 
make  a  real.  I  am  fortunate  in  getting  hold  of  a  prisoner  who  is  so 
popular  with  the  senoras.  I  hope,  senor — senor — your  name  has  gone 
from  me  already.  I  was  going  to  say  that  I  hope  you  will  remain 
with  me  just  as  long  as  Senora  Candelario  will  supply  you  with 
meals." 

The  loquacity  of  the  jailer  seemed  interminable  and  would  have 
continued  to  an  indefinite  length  had  not  Guy  interrupted. 

"See  here,  Senor  Bonito !  Your  tongue  would  have  been  better 
employed  by  making  inquiry  as  to  the  wants  of  your  prisoner  than  in 
discussing  yourself  and  your  trickery.  I  want  a  basin  of  water  and 
something  to  sit  on.  If  you  do  not  attend  to  me  properly  I  shall 
apply  for  a  release  at  once  and  you  will  lose  your  real  for  my  meals. 
Furthermore,  if  you  treat  me  well  I  have  money  to  pay  you." 

"The  sergeant  did  not  search  you  then !  If  he  did  not,  it  is  more 
wonderful  than  a  miracle.  Under  the  rules  it  becomes  my  duty  to 
carry  out  what  the  patrol  failed  to  do." 

As  he  said  this,  Bonito  advanced  as  if  to  execute  the  asserted  duty. 
The  statement  of  his  prisoner  that  he  was  possessed  of  means  to  pay 
was  taken  in  the  sense  that  he  had  the  money  on  his  person.  The 
idea  roused  his  cupidity  and  the  first  thought  was  to  dispossess  his 
victim  in  advance  and  make  the  manner  of  treatment  a  subsequent 
consideration.  Guy  at  once  perceived  his  intention  and  thwarted 
him  by  a  display  of  determination,  coupled  with  a  warning  signal 
from  his  half  extended  arm  and  open  palm. 

"It  is  plain,  Bonito,  that  you  do  not  know  with  whom  you  have 
to  deal.  You  cannot  search  me  single-handed,  but  I  will  relieve  you 
of  the  torture  of  believing  that  I  have  money  with  me,  by  informing 
you  that  I  have  not  a  cent  here.  My  money  is  with  my  friends.  It 
will  be  to  your  interest  to  get  me  what  I  require  and  to  do  so  at  once." 

"You  are  a  bold  pajarro,  sure  enough.  You  shall  have  the  water 
and  the  seat." 

Bonito  made  a  motion  to  close  the  door  of  the  cell,  then  re- 
marked : 

"Xo !  I  will  be  gone  but  a  second,  and  you  could  not  get  out  of 
tho  court  if  you  tried." 

He  left  the  cell  door  half  of  en  and  shuffled  away  across  the  court, 

8-r 


110  GUY  EAYMOND. 

Guy  rolled  his  bed  into  a  corner,  made  a  round  or  two  of  his 
cell,  then  waited  at  the  door.  Before  Bonito's  return  someone  was 
pounding  on  the  closed  door  leading  into  the  corridor.  He  heard 
the  summons  from  the  opposite  apartment,  whence  he  had  stuck  out 
his  head  on  Guy's  arrival  with  the  patrol,  went  through  the  same 
performance  on  this  occasion,  and  shouted  to  the  caller  to  have 
patience. 

"There  ought  to  be  a  half  dozen  Bonitos,"  he  said.  "Here  I  have 
to  be  run  to  death  serving  this  one,  and  answering  that  one,  and  a 
peon  is  better  paid.  I  half  believe  that  pretty  bird  has  the  money 
on  him.  (Santa  Maria!  That  fellow  will  batter  down  the  door.) 
He  would  have  had  his  basin  of  water  ten  minutes  ago  if  it  had 
not  been  for  Linda's  tongue.  Even  she  knows  him,  and  Candelario 
knows  him,  and  that  Manuel  Ruiz  was  here  this  morning  trying  to 
force  his  way  in,  without  a  permit,  to  see  him.  Este  pajarro  es  una 
vera  aguila." 

Bonito  finally  supplied  the  coveted  water,  and  depositing  the 
basin  and  a  three-legged  stool  inside  the  cell  door,  he  made  all  the 
haste  he  could  to  answer  the  loud  knocking  at  the  corridor. 

It  proved  to  be  Guy's  breakfast  which  had  been  sent  as  promised. 
The  fat  old  fellow  was  puffing  from  his  unusual  celerity  of  move- 
ment as  he  deposited  on  the  doorsill  of  the  cell  a  basket  covered  by 
a  snowy  cloth. 

"If  you  have  many  more  wants,  Senor  Pa your  pardon,  senor, 

but  your  name  is  ?" 

"Raymond,"  answered  Guy,  amused. 

"I  fear  I  will  be  poorly  paid,  Senor  Raymond,  for  to  attend  to 
you  one  will  have  to  run  himself  to  death." 

"Give  me  the  liberty  of  the  enclosure  and  I  will  give  you  my  word 
that  I  will  make  no  attempt  to  escape." 

"That  is  exactly  what  that  little  tonta,  Linda,  said  when  I  went 
for  the  basin  and  the  stool." 

"Who  is  Linda?" 

"She  said  she  knows  you.  If  true,  it  seems  to  me  you  should 
know  her.  Linda  is  my  rattle-brained  daughter." 

"She  must  be  mistaken,"  said  Guy,  wonderingly. 

"She  is  mistaken  in  nothing.  She  has  said  it,  and  means  it.  She 
knew  of  your  arrest  and  asked  me  to  let  you  walk  about  the  court 
in  the  day  time.  Like  all  women,  she  is  soft-hearted.  If  she  were 
jailer  all  the  prisoners  would  get  away,  for  she  would  parole  them 
all  to  walk  where  they  pleased." 

"Not  all,  Bonito.    An  honorable  man  is  safer  kept  by  his  parole 


GUY  RAYMOND.  Ill 

than  by  the  strongest  walls.     Perhaps  your  Mexican  race  does  not 
understand  this  sentiment  as  its  men  are  unusually  treacherous." 

"I  am  no  Mexican,  senor.  My  father  was  Portugese  and  my 
mother  Italian.  My  wife  was  Mexican.  Mexicans  are  a  pretty  bad 
set — that  is,  the  men.  The  women  are  all  right  and  would  turn  any- 
body loose.  You  had  better  look  into  your  basket,  now  that  you  are 
washed.  Your  breakfast  will  get  cold." 

Guy  was  not  loth  to  comply  with  Bonito's  suggestion,  for  he  had 
tasted  nothing  since  the  dinner  at  Father  Ignacio's.  Seating  him- 
self on  the  doorsill  he  converted  the  stool  into  a  table  and  took  the 
edibles  out  of  the  basket.  Everything  was  steaming.  At  the  very 
bottom  he  found  a  mug  of  chocolate  covered  by  a  plate  containing 
tortillas. 

"This  is  better  than  prison  fare/'  said  Bonito,  his  appetite  sharp- 
ened by  the  smell  of  the  dishes. 

"Ruiz  must  have  had  a  hand  in  this,"  thought  Guy. 

"Do  you  know  Manuel  Ruiz,"  he  asked,  turning  to  the  other. 

"Si,  senor.  He  was  here  this  morning  to  see  you,  but  had  no 
permit;  and  my  orders  are  strict." 

"And  Jose,  he  who  stays  with  the  padre.     Do  you  know  him?" 

"Everybody  knows  Jose." 

"Has  he  been  here?" 

"No,  senor." 

"And  Linda,  your  daughter,  was  she  here?" 

"She  is  here  all  the  time,  except  when  she  goes  to  a  baile,  or  to 
mass,  or  to  walk  in  the  Alameda.  She  lives  with  her  father;  where 
eke?" 

Guy  knew  that  the  last  girl  he  had  spoken  to,  since  he  left  Laoni 
on  the  mountain  side,  was  she  with  whom  he  had  waltzed  the  evening 
before. 

"She  asked  you  to  let  me  walk  about  on  parole?" 

"As  I  told  you." 

"And  you  refused?" 

"I  made  her  no  answer.  That  fellow  with  your  breakfast  was 
about  to  bieak  down  the  door,  and  I  had  to  run  with  your  basin  full 
of  water  in  one  hand  and  the  stool  in  the  other.  You  saw  how  out 
of  breath  I  was,  and  senor,  my  pay  is  beggarly." 

"Well,  Bonito,  I  will  allow  you  two  reals  each  day  that  you 
permit  me  to  enjoy  the  freedom  of  the  court." 

"That  is  a  small  pay  for  the  risk,  senor." 

To  risk  at  all.     Every  morning  I  will  renew  my  parole." 
will  think  about  it,  senor." 


112  GUY  KAYMOND. 

Bonito  gathered  up  the  dishes,  and  promising  to  return  shortly, 
closed  and  locked  the  door. 

He  halted  for  reflection  as  he  crossed  the  yard : 

"Two  reals  for  the  liberty  of  the  court;  two  for  the  meals  that 
I  don't  furnish — four  reals.  If  he  stays  a  month,  that  will  be  fifteen 
pesos.  I  believe  the  fellow  has  the  money  in  his  pocket.  He  won't 
let  me  search  him,  and  if  I  tell  the  patrol  he  has  it,  where  will 
Bonito  be?  Better  close  the  bargain.  He  can't  get  out  except  through 
the  corridor  door,  and  that  is  locked  all  day." 

"I  thought  you  were  going  to  stay  the  rest  of  the  day,  papa." 

These  words  greeted  Bonito  as  he  returned  to  the  apartment  fro  PI 
which  he  had  emerged  with  basin  and  stool. 

"Your  American  is  hard  to  please.  He  wants  everything.  I  have 
a  notion  to  put  him  in  irons." 

"Dear  papa !  Do  not  do  that.  He  waltzed  with  me  at  the  baile 
and  was  so  polite  and  agreeable.  He  would  have  stayed  with  me 
longer,  but  another  came  and  took  him  away.  After  a  long  time 
the  same  one  returned  and  told  me  of  his  bad  fortune." 

"Bad  fortune!  I  think  he  is  doing  well.  He  has  money  and 
friends;  everybody  is  trying  to  get  a  peep  at  him;  the  Candelario  is 
feeding  him  like  a  king ;  you  are  begging  for  his  liberty  in  the  court ; 
besides,  I  am  making  a  real  for  every  meal  sent  to  him.  Linda,  be- 
tween you  and  me,  I  believe  the  fellow  has  plenty  of  money  in  his 
pocket.  He  admits  the  patrol  did  not  search  him  and  says  that  I 
shall  not.  He  is  impudent." 

"He  is  brave,"  said  Linda. 

"You  are  a  fool." 

"And  he  is  handsome." 

"Cayatelaboca!" 

"Papa,  do  not  keep  him  in  the  cell  all  day." 

"We  will  see;  we  will  see." 

When  his  cell  door  was  again  opened  Guy  had  a  long  chat  with 
his  jailer  who  tried,  in  every  conceivable  way,  to  draw  from  him  an 
admission  that  he  had  means  on  his  person  to  defray  the  promised 
outlay  for  the  daily  privilege  to  walk  about  on  parole.  After  finally 
consenting  to  the  arrangement,  he  exacted  a  promise  that  Guy  should 
not  inform  his  daughter,  if  by  chance  he  should  meet  her  in  the  court, 
that  he  had  exacted  any  pay  for  his  release  from  close  confinement. 
There  was  no  sentinel  in  the  yard,  which  fact  was  explained  by 
Bonito,  who  stated  that  his  post  during  the  day  was  in  front  of  the 
prison,  but  at  night  the  corridor  was  left  open  and  the  sentinel 
walked  in  the  court. 


GUY  RAYMOND.  113 

Noon  came  and  passed.  The  Candelario  did  not  forget  his  dinner, 
but  he  was  disappointed  that  no  one  had  called  to  look  after  his 
interests.  Ruiz  had  been  denied  admittance,  but  what  had  become 
of  Jose?  What  of  Father  Ignacio?  Guy  thought  he  should  be 
arraigned  on  the  charge  against  him,  but  then  he  reflected  the  ac- 
cusers, judges  and  jurisprudence,  were  Mexican,  even  if  he  were  not 
to  be  dealt  with  by  summary  military  measures.  The  thought  rather 
discouraged  him,  and  he  began  to  lose  confidence  in  his  powers.  He 
seated  himself  on  a  bench  under  his  high  cell  window  and  lowered 
his  head  into  his  hands.  How  friendless  he  was!  True,  he  had  no 
claims  on  the  new  acquaintances  of  the  last  few  hours,  other  than 
those  of  common  humanity  and  that  chivalrous  generosity  whose 
mutual  possession  draws  persons  together  through  the  magnetism  of 
a  noble  similarity. 

The  valley  of  the  San  Saba  rose  to  his  mental  vision.  The  rock 
above  the  falls  supported  the  form  of  his  truest  friend,  who  was 
waiting,  and  would  wait  until  the  leaves  would  fall  and  come  again, 
waiting  for  El  Bravo.  A  touch  upon  his  shoulder  awakened  him 
from  his  reverie  and  starting  up,  he  beheld  his  little  partner  in  the 
waltz. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  morning  after  the  termination  of  Jose's  visit  to  the  Cabeza 
de  Toro,  Father  Ignacio  was  astir  betimes.  He  had  duties  to  per- 
form about  his  premises  before  repairing-  to  the  church  to  say  early 
mass.  His  absence  had  not  tended  to  improve  the  domestic  arrange- 
ment of  his  household,  and  he  was  too  thorough  and  methodical  to 
trust  important  matters  to  irresponsible  servants.  Jose  was  usually 
faithful,  but  was  sometimes  derelict  in  depending  too  implicitly  on 
others,  not  actuated  by  motives  so  disinterested  as  was  the  major 
domo  in  the  affairs  of  his  patron.  On  the  morning  in  question  he 
waited,  rather  impatiently,  for  the  appearance  of  his  trusted  steward. 
The  cook  had  reported  that  Jose  had  not  been  seen,  and  consequently 
he  had  no  orders.  All  about  the  premises  were  ignorant  of  his  where- 
abouts. He  was  not  in  his  room.  Finally,  at  his  wit's  end,  the  priest 
directed  a  servant  to  go  to  Senor  Raymond's  apartment  and  inquire 
if  he  knew  anything  of  the  major  domo. 

The  servant  returned  in  a  moment  and  reported  that  the  reputed 
occupant  was  not  there,  but  that  he  found  Jose  fast  asleep  on  the 
bed  and  that  several  vigorous  shakes  had  failed  to  arouse  him. 

Lost  in  amazement  at  such  news,  Father  Ignacio  hastened  to  in- 
vestigate for  himself.  Sure  enough,  he  discovered  Jose  in  the  con- 


114  GUY  EAYMOND. 

dition  reported,  and  after  several  efforts,  succeeded  in  getting  him 
to  a  sitting  position  on  the  bed.  The  smell  of  mescal  at  once  ap- 
prised the  priest  of  the  cause  of  the  major  domo's  stupidity.  Why 
his  trusted  man  had  imbibed  the  execrable  stuff  to  the  extent  of 
beastly  intoxication,  where  he  had  been,  what  occasion  had  tempted 
him,  and  how  he  came  to  be  in  Guy's  room  and  bed,  and  the  latter 
gone,  were  mysteries  to  be  solved. 

Jose,  after  sitting  up  a  while,  became  sufficiently  conscious  to 
respond  to  inquiries. 

"Jose!     Where  is  Senor  Raymond?" 

"I  know  not,  mi  padre.  Is  he  not  in  his  room?" 

"Why,  this  is  his  room.  You  are  in  his  bed,  and  he  is  not  to  be 
seen.  How  came  you  here?" 

"I  know  not,  mi  padre,  unless  I  walked  in  my  sleep." 

"Jose,  you  have  been  drunk,  and  only  now  are  getting  over  the 
effects. 

"I  may  have  taken  a  drink,  but  not  drunk,  mi  padre.  I  am  sick — 
so  sick." 

"If  you  are  sick,  it  is  from  the  effects  of  mescal.  Have  you  no 
shame?  I  had  need  of  your  assistance  at  the  church,  for  this  is 
the  eve  of  the  Feast  of  the  Holy  Rosary,  and  you  well  know  that  I 
wanted  you  to  do  the  heavy  work  in  arranging  and  decorating  the 
grand  altar.  Now,  upon  whom  am  I  to  depend  ?  Where  is  this  young 
American?  You  say  you  do  not  know;  but  since  I  find  you  in  this 
wretched,  disgraceful  condition,  I  cannot  believe  you.  Confine  your- 
self to  this  room  until  I  give  you  permission  to  leave.  Disobey  me, 
and  you  will  forfeit  my  friendship." 

Jose  became  rapidly  sobered  during  the  priest's  lecture.  Indeed, 
his  debauch  had  been  slept  off,  but  had  been  succeeded  by  a  stupor 
that  rquired  a  little  time  after  awakening  to  admit  of  a  full  return 
of  the  senses.  He  had  not  dared  to  admit  to  a  knowledge  of  Guy's 
misfortune.  The  denial,  once  made,  rendered  it  all  the  more  difficult 
to  tell  the  truth.  He  was  full  of  remorse,  but  dared  not  acknowledge 
sua  culpa,  sua  maxima  culpa  to  the  priest  whose  life  was  so  pure. 

Poor  Jose !  He  fell  over  on  the  bed  and  wept  bitter  tears  on 
account  of  the  father's  displeasure.  His  fault  had  not  been  so  great, 
after  all.  "If  the  arrest  of  his  friend  could  have  been  avoided,  he 
would  have  been  home  in  time,  perfectly  sober,  with  bright  pesos  which 
his  unfortunate  companion  had  so  beautifully  won,  and  which  now, 
alas,  had  all  gone  most  probably  to  the  vile  Vasquez,  who  was  the 
cause  of  all  the  trouble.  Jose  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  worst 
feature  of  the  whole  affair  was  the  discovery  of  his  wrong  doing.  He 
pondered  on  his  case  and  concluded  the  safest  defense  would  be  a 


GUY  EAYMOND.  115 

general  denial  as  to  his  knowledge  of  Guy's  imprisonment.  The  first 
use  he  would  make  of  a  release  from  the  restriction  to  his  present 
quarters  would  be  to  institute  a  pretended  search  for  the  missing 
guest  and  report  the  discovery  of  his  arrest  under  the  charges  of 
Vasquez.  The  fact  of  his  inebriation  must  be  accounted  for  in  some 
manner,  but  how,  the  present  state  of  his  muddled  brain  rendered 
him  powerless  to  decide. 

It  was  quite  noon  before  Father  Ignacio  relented  towards  his 
crestfallen  major  domo,  and  consented  for  him  to  return  to  his  ac- 
customed duties.  The  latter  had  effaced  all  traces  of  his  late  con- 
dition and  appeared  fresh,  but  serious,  when  his  master's  dinner  was 
served.  The  father's  manner  was  austere  and  reserved  during  the 
meal.  He  scarcely  noticed  Jose,  and  refrained  from  interrogating 
him  on  the  subject  uppermost  in  his  mind,  for  the  reason  that  he 
believed  his  steward  had  lied  in  answer  to  the  questions  asked  him 
in  the  morning.  When  he  had  concluded  his  repast  he  leaned  over 
the  table  in  a  thoughtful  mood,  mechanically  using  his  goblet  in 
making  circles  on  the  cloth,  until  he  had  ringed  the  surface  in  front 
of  him  into  a  score  of  interlaced  figures. 

Jose  watched  the  proceedings  with  many  misgivings,  for  he  knew 
lie  was  on  the  eve  of  receiving  either  a  lecture  or  reprimand  or  some 
order,  that  was  to  be  the  outcome  of  this  deliberation.  Finally  the 
pr'est  broke  the  silence: 

"Jose,  I  will  not  ask  you  to  say  if  you  know  aught  of  the  cause 
of  Senor  Eaymond's  disappearance,  or  why  he  did  not  occupy  his 
room  last  night.  Still  more  will  I  refrain  from  pressing  you  to  an 
explanation  of  your  own  conduct  and  its  resulting  debauch.  I  will 
say  this,  however,  that  you  have  incurred  my  serious  displeasure,  and 
if  you  would  make  some  atonement  for  the  sin  you  have  committed, 
as  well  as  for  your  attempt  to  conceal  it,  you  will  employ  this  after- 
noon in  making  searching1  inquiry  for  this  young  American  who,  I 
fear,  has  been  foully  dealt  with." 

As  Father  Ignacio  left  the  dining  room,  his  auditor  stood  speech- 
less, mentally  relieved  by  the  modified  rebuke  expressed  in  tones 
which,  while  moderate,  conveyed  to  the  major  domo  the  full  measure 
of  a  distrust,  which  he  hoped  the  events  of  the  afternoon  and  his  own 
ingenuity  would  remove. 

As  soon  as  Jose  had  disposed  of  a  hasty  repast,  he  set  out  for  the 
Calle  de  Carcel. 

When  Vasquez  left,  the  vinoteria  with  his  treasure  he  had  not 
tlio  remotest  idea  of  his  destination.  He  had  listened  to  the  words 
of  T?uiz  in  all  credulity  and  mentally  resolved  to  let  alone  the 
1 1 dopf < -d  son  of  el  presidents  and  to  rely  on  concealment  to  escape  any 


116  GUY  EAYMOND. 

penalty  for  his  mistake.  Refuge  with  the  Texans  was  the  furthest 
from  his  thoughts.  The  astonishment  which  first  seized  him  when 
Euiz  proposed  to  entrust  him  with  a  sum  of  money  was  supplanted 
by  eagerness  to  possess  it.  His  first  precaution,  on  leaving  the  vino- 
teria,  was  to  watch  for  the  exit  of  his  benefactor,  from  a  safe  position 
in  a  doorway.  He  soon  saw  him  come  out,  supporting  the  unsteady 
form  of  Jose,  and  turn  up  towards  the  plaza.  He  followed  them 
until  the  latter  had  been  duly  deposited  in  the  hallway  of  the  priest's 
house,  and  he  had  seen  the  other  walk  briskly  away  and  enter  the 
Calle  Solidad  at  the  northeast  corner  of  the  square.  Satisfied  that 
Euiz  had  disappeared  for  the  night,  he  hastened  back  to  the  Cabeza 
de  Toro.  Before  entering  he  sought  the  shadow  of  the  carcel  wall, 
where  an  alley  separated  the  two  buildings,  and  taking  the  handker- 
chief from  his  bosom,  he  undid  the  roll  and  deposited  the  silver  in 
the  several  pockets  about  his  person.  The  coins  chinked  in  spite  of 
his  precautions  and  he  dropped  a  piece,  for  which  he  groped  about 
for  several  minutes,  raking  the  ground  with  his  fingers.  He  uttered 
an  oath  at  his  want  of  success,  then  hurriedly  left  and  entered  the 
gambling1  den,  without  having  noticed  two  forms,  which  turned  the 
corner  in  time  to  hear  a  tell-tale  clink  of  the  silver  to  betray  his 
presence. 

"Who  was  it  ?"  asked  a  voice. 

"I  saw  his  face  as  he  went  in  the  door  and  think  it  was  Vasquez." 

"He!    With  money?" 
-  "Perhaps  he  has  been  winning." 

"Let  us  go  in  and  watch  him." 

Vasquez's  face  wore  the  expression  of  supreme  content  as 
stood  over  the  gaming  table  and  made  his  first  bet.  He  became  deeply 
interested  as  the  game  continued  and  fortune  favored  him.  His  first 
varying  success  now  changed  to  one  continuous  flow  of  luck  and  so 
absorbed  him  that  he  did  not  notice  anything  but  the  cards  and  the 
dealer.  Finally  he  lost.  Another  bet,  and  he  lost  again.  He  hesi- 
tated as  if  uncertain  what  to  do,  watched  the  game  a  while,  th 
turned  and  left  the  place. 

"Which  way  did  he  go?" 

"To  the  left,  down  the  street." 

"You  cross  over.     I  will  follow  him  on  this  side." 

The  two,  who  had  heard  the  clink  of  silver  in  the  alley,  follow 
Vasquez  as  he  hurried  in  the  direction  of  the  old  mill. 

When  Jose  arrived  at  the  Calle  de  Carcel  he  apparently  changed 
his  mind,  for  he  continued  down  the  east  side  of  the  plaza  until  he 
reached  the  door  of  the  Monte  Pio.  He  found  the  proprietor  busy 


GUY  RAYMOND.  117 

bargaining  with  some  woman  over  several  articles  of  jewelry,  and 
while  waiting  until  he  would  be  disengaged,  he  peered  into  the  show- 
case at  the  various  articles  of  silver  and  gold  ornaments,  jewelry, 
spurs,  silk  sashes,  medals  and  other  things  of  more  or  less  value.  His 
attention  was  attracted  by  a  silver  medal  of  the  virgin  attached  to  a 
string  of  pure,  white  beads,  ingenously  interwoven.  He  remembered 
Guy's  description  of  his  lost  trinket,  and  concluded  that  this  new 
addition  to  the  monte  pio's  stock  must  be  the  medal  lost  in  the  camp 
on  the  San  Geronimo. 

The  Monte  Pio  saluted  Jose  gaily  as  he  turned  from  his  departing 
customers. 

"The  very  man  I  wanted  to  see." 

"That  accounts  for  my  coming  here  instead  of  keeping  on  to  the 
carcel." 

"My  thoughts  attracted  you/' 

"And  why  did  you  want  to  see  me?" 

"I  have   a  letter — a  message — and   some  money  for  you.     The 

money  is  to  be  in  trust  for but  I  will  give  you  the  letter  and  that 

will  explain." 

Jose  took  the  letter  and  opening  it,  read  as  follows : 

"My  Friend  : — I  would  have  called  to  see  you,  but  events  have 
happened  which  compel  me  to  leave  the  city  very  suddenly.  On  ac- 
count of  my  defense  of  the  young  American,  the  authorities,  who 
already  distrusted  me,  have  resolved  on  my  arrest.  I  go  from  here 
tho  enemy  of  despotism,  which  is  personated  in  Santa  Anna,  and  am 
resolved  to  never  submit  to  it.  I  leave  in  the  hands  of  the  Monte 
Pio  thirty-eight  and  a  half  pesos,  which  is  the  balance  of  Senor 
Raymond's  winnings,  after  using  what  was  required  to  get  the  fellow 
Vasquez  out  of  the  way.  T  used  a  little  artifice  and  fifty-one  and  a 
ha'^f  pesos  to  induce  him  to  leave.  It  is  pretty  certain  he  will  not 
1)0  soen  around  town  agnin  shortly.  You  will  doubtless  be  glad  T 
did  not  give  him  the  whole  ninety.  I  hope  you  have  told  Father 
Ignacio  all,  and  that  he  has  taken  steps  for  the  release  of  that  brave 
young  fellow.  The  only  char  ere  against  him  will  be  his  nationality, 
and  the  good  father  can  account  for  his  presence  in  town. 

"Your  friend,  Manuel  Ruiz." 

.Jose  was  so  glad  that  Ruiz  had  saved  a  portion  of  the  money,  and 
had  disposed  of  Vasquez,  that  he  forgot  all  about  the  medal  in  the 
showcase.  He  directed  the  Monte  Pio  to  retain  the  amount  mentioned 
in  Ruiz's  letter  and  arid  it  to  the  proceeds  from  the  pony  and  saddle, 
for  the  credit  of  Guy  Raymond. 

The  major  domo  had  scarcely  left  the  Monte  Pio's  when  a  Mexi- 


118  GUY  RAYMOND. 

can,  dressed  as  a  ranchero,  rode  up  to  the  door,  dismounted  and 
entered.  The  proprietor,  who  had  just  commenced  to  cast  up  the 
amount  of  Senor  Raymond's  credit,  looked  up  and  asked  the  new- 
comer what  was  wanted. 

"I  want  to  redeem  my  spurs,"  he  replied,  showing  a  ticket. 

After  glancing  at  the  bit  of  pasteboard,  the  other  took  down  a 
pair  of  spurs,  whose  huge  rowells  were  out  of  all  proportion. 

"So,  Pedro,  you  have  made  a  raise." 

"Si,  senor,  I  won  twenty  pesos  at  the  cock  fight." 

"Better  get  that  handsome  sash,  now  you  have  the  money." 

"What  is  the  price  of  this  medal,  with  the  white  beads?"  asked 
Pedro. 

"That?  Let  me  see;  you  can  have  it  at  a  bargain.  I  bought  it 
from  one  of  the  mozos  who  came  with  Father  Ignacio  from  the  Rio 
Grande.  Take  it  for  four  pesos." 

"Es  demasiado,"  remonstrated  Pedro. 

"Too  much!     It  is  worth  seven." 

"I  will  give  you  twenty  reals  for  it." 

"You  are  a  good  customer,  Pedro.  Take  the  medal,  if  I  lose  by  it. 
But  where  are  you  going,  dressed  like  a  ranchero?  On  more  busi- 
ness for  the  Colonel?" 

"I  have  a  pretty  dangerous  errand  before  me.  This  disguise  is 
furnished  by  the  Colonel.  The  sight  of  that  medal  made  me  think 
it  well  to  go  under  the 'protection  of  our  good  mother.  I  will  get  it 
blessed  and  wear  it  on  my  trip." 

"You  are  right,  Pedro.     The  Blessed  Virgin  never  deserts  those 
who  appeal  to  her  for  protection.     The  times  are  getting  dangerous 
and  it  is  well  to  be  prudent." 

"Adios,  senor." 

"Adios,  Pedro." 

"Only  twelve  reals  profit  on  that  medal,"  mused  the  Monte  Pio, 
as  he  watched  Pedro  secure-  his  lariat  to  his  saddle,  mount  his  pony 

and  ride  away. 

*  *  *  * 

When  Guy  was  startled  from  his  reverie  by  Linda's  touch  he 
was  pleased,  but  not  surprised,  to  find  that  the  jailer's  daughter  and 
the  girl  he  had  danced  with  the  night  before  were  one  and  the  same 
person.  She  was  not  at  all  abashed  when  she  encountered  the  look 
of  the  young  prisoner.  Her  face  wore  an  engaging  expression,  illum- 
ined by  a  quiet  smile,  characteristic  of  the  sisterhood  of  her  race,  that 
meant  half  to  encourage,  half  to  pity  a  misfortune  which  she  would 
fain  remove. 


GUY  EAYMOND.  119 

"Does  the  senor  remember  me?" 

"I  could  not  fail  to  remember  the  only  woman  I  have  spoken  to 
in  Bexar." 

She  answered  him  with  a. smile. 

"So,  you  are  Linda." 

"My  father  has  been  telling  you  my  name,"  she  said,  looking  into 
his  eyes.  "I  am  afraid  you  found  him  very  rude." 

"No,  he  amused  me.  He  has  been  quite  good  to  me.  You  see, 
he  has  allowed  me  the  liberty  of  this  court.  Perhaps  I  owe  this  favor 
partly  to  you?" 

She  only  smiled. 

"My  father  worships  money.  You  must  not  let  him  impose  on 
you,  for  he  will  want  you  to  pay  for  everything  he  does  for  you. 
If  you  have  .much  money  do  not  let  him  know  it." 

"You  are  very  kind,  Linda,  to  take  this  interest  in  a  stranger." 

"It  is  a  part  of  our  religion,  senor.  The  men  of  our  people  are 
so  cruel,  but  God  has  made  our  women  with  tender  hearts." 

"Do  you  live  here,  inside  this  carcel?" 

"Si,  senor." 

"Are  you  not  lonely  here.?" 

"Sometimes;  but  when  I  am  I  can  go  to  the  Alameda  in  the 
evening.  I  go  to  mass  every  morning,  and  now  and  then  I  enjoy  a 
dance  at  the  Cabeza  de  Toro." 

What  a  difference  there  is  in  ideas  of  the  proprieties  when  viewed 
from  the  standpoint  of  race  custom,  thought  Guy.  Here  is  a  pretty, 
sympathetic,  religious  girl  who  could  attend  festivities  without  im- 
pairing her  good  name,  which  the  Puritan  mind  would  condemn  as 
a  debauch,  and  which  even  the  license  of  a  more  liberal  social  code 
of  his  people  would  pronounce  immoral,  held,  as  they  were,  under 
the  shadow  of  a  place  devoted  to  the  demoralizing  vice  of  gaming. 
But  here  race  characteristics  intervene  to  extenuate  practices  whose 
evil  tendencies  are  merely  co-extensive  with  actual  effects  produced 
on  race  morals,  and  to  point  to  the  difference  between  customs  in- 
grained in  a  peculiar  civilization  and  habits  confined  to  the  more 
vicious  and  disreputable  haunts  of  a  more  enlightened  and  progressive 
population.  Gambling  among  Mexicans  is  only  a  degree  less  natural 
than  is  dancing,  and  with  them  dancing  is  one  of  the  necessities  of 
a  contented  existence. 

"And  does  not  the  padre  object  to  your  going  to  the  Cabeza  de 
Toro  one  day,  and  to  mass  the  next?" 

"Why  should  he  ?     One  must  dance." 

"You  think,  then,  that  dancing  is  as  necessary  as  praying?" 


120  GUY  EAYMOND. 

"I  go  to  San  Fernando  in  the  morning  for  mass,  and  you  know, 
senor,  the  bailes  and  fandangos  are  at  night," 

"Are  you  going  to  dance  tonight,  Linda?" 

"No,  senor.     Tomorrow  is  the  Feast  of  the  Holy  Eosary." 

"Then  it  is  not  right  to  dance  on  the  eve  of  this  feast?" 

"It  is  not  if  I  go  to  confession;  and  I  must  confess  this  after- 
noon. After  confession  I  must  be  very  quiet  and  think  of  nothing 
but  my  communion  in  the  morning." 

"You  are  a  good  girl,  Linda;  I  can  hardly  believe  that  you  are 
Bonito's  daughter." 

"He  says  I  am;  but  sometimes  I  doubt  it,  especially  when  he 
tries  to  make  me  promise  to  marry  the  monte  pio." 

"The  monte  pio?" 

"Si,- senor.     He  lives  on  the  plaza,  and  he  is  very  rich." 

"And  why  won't  you  marry  him?" 

"He  is  old  enough  to  be  my  father." 

"But  he  is  so  rich." 

"I  could  not  love  him,  senor;  and  with  all  his  riches,  he  made 
his  first  wife  work  like  a  peon,  and  he  is  ugly  and " 

"Then  I  would  not  marry  him,  Linda." 

A  loud  knocking  at  the  door  interrupted  them  and  Linda  went 
for  her  father,  who  had  already  retired  for  his  siesta.  When,  after 
a  lapse  of  a  few  moments,  that  worthy  appeared,  the  knocking  had 
been  repeated  several  times.  He  was  terribly  cross  at  having  been 
disturbed  and  jowered  and  grumbled  as  he  crossed  the  court: 

"A  poor  devil  can't  take  a  siesta." 

"Tonto!"  he  continued,  on  a  fresh  recurrence  of  the  summons, 
"can't  you  wait  until  a  fellow  can  get  to  the  door?  It  is  a  dog's 
life  at  best;  run  my  legs  off,  and  after  all  it  will  be  some  one  to  ask 
after  that  pajarro." 

"Quien  es  ?"  he  shouted,  as  he  half  introduced  the  key  in  the  lock. 

"Yo,  Jose." 

"Jose!  Jose!"  and  Bonito  contemptuously  made  his  voice  still 
more  effiminate.  Then  he  replied  to  the  candidate  for  admittance: 

"No  conozco,  yo,  Jose — Jose — diablo?" 

"Jose,  el  major  domo,"  suggested  Linda. 

"Who  told  you  to  answer?"  asked  Bonito  between  his  teeth. 
"You  are  putting  on  airs  before  this  pajarro  Americano." 

"What  do  you  want  here?"  he  shouted,  with  the  key  still  untun 
in  the  lock. 

"El  padre  Ignacio  sent  me  to  see  you." 

"See  me?" 


GUY  RAYMOND.  121 

"Si,  senor;  on  business." 

The  key  shot  back  the  bolt,  the  heavy  door  slowly  swung,  and 
Jose  was  in  the  court.  Without  noticing  the  jailer,  he  passed  quickly 
over  to  Guy  and  saluted  him  warmly. 

"That  is  fine  business  with  me,"  said  Bonito,  locking  the  door  and 
casting  a  savage  look  at  the  two. 

"It  seems  like  a  whole  week  since  last  night,"  said  Jose. 

He  soon  posted  Guy  on  all  that  had  transpired  outside  the  carcel 
as  a  sequel  to  their  misadventure. 

Bonito  interrupted  them  so  often  with  his  growling  and  demands 
to  know  Jose's  business  that  Guy  used  a  little  artifice  to  silence  him. 
He  said  to  Jose: 

"I  want  you  to  go  to  the  monte  pio  and  get  me  some  money.  I 
owe  my  friend,  the  jailer,  a  small  sum  and  must  pay  him." 

The  change  in  Bonito's  face  was  instantaneous  and  he  subsided  at 
once  when  Jose  signified  his  willingness  to  comply. 

Guy  regained  his  elasticity  of  spirits  when  he  became  informed 
of  the  service  which  Ruiz  had  rendered  him,  and  regretted  the  neces- 
sity that  forced  his  benefactor  to  leave  the  city.  When  Jose  had 
exhausted  every  other  topic,  he  remembered  the  medal  he  had  seen 
in  the  show-case. 

"I  am  certain  I  saw  the  medal  which  your  Indian  girl  gave  you, 
senor.  It  was  lying  snugly  in  the  show-case  at  the  monte  pio's,  but 
I  was  so  full  of  joy  to  know  that  all  of  your  winnings  did  not  go 
to  the  villian  Vasquez  that  I  forgot  to  ask  who  had  pawned  it,  or 
sold  it,  rather,  for  the  monte  pio  has  it  for  sale." 

"Be  sure,  Jose,  to  tell  him  to  keep  it  for  me  at  any  price." 

"That  shows  you  are  a  poor  trader.  I  will  not  let  him  know  that 
you,  or  any  one,  places  any  value  on  it.  I  will  price  it  with  much 
indifference,  beat  him  down  afterwards  on  the  amount  he  will  ask, 
and  then  take  it  very  reluctantly.  Senor,  you  don't  know  the  monte 
pio." 

"Well,  at  all  events,  secure  it." 

Jose  promised  to  see  after  the  medal  at  once,  to  execute  Guy's 
directions  about  the  money,  and  then  hasten  to  inform  his  master 
that  he  had  discovered  the  young  American.  Guy  added  a  request 
that  he  procure  for  him,  from  the  monte  pio,  one  or  more  books, 
provided  he  had  any,  as  reading  or  study  would  help  pass  away  the 
time. 

"If  Linda  would  go  with  me,  she  could  bring  you  the  money  and 
the  book,  while  I  go  to  inform  Father  Ignacio." 


122  GUY  EAYMOND. 

Linda  was  quite  willing  to  act  on  Jose's  suggestion,  and  going 
for  her  rebosa,  accompanied  him  out  into  the  street. 

"You  are  the  worst  prisoner  I  ever  had." 

"How  so,  Bonito?" 

"It  is  lock  and  unlock,  open  and  shut,  run  here  and  run  there. 
A  person  can't  be  still  a  minute.  If  this  keeps  up  I  will  get  so 
thin  that  I  won't  be  able  to  keep  my  clothes  on,  and  I  will  wear  out 
a  pair  of  slippers  a  week.  The  two  reals  for  your  meals  that  I 
don't  furnish  and  the  three  you  are  to  pay  me  (that  makes  five) 
will  not  make  up  for  the  damages  outside  of  my  loss  of  flesh.  Do 
you  think  the  monte  pio  will  send  the  money  ?" 

"No  doubt  of  it.  But  see  here,  Mr.  Bonito,  you  are  raising  on 
me.  The  price  I  was  to  pay  for  walking  out  here  was  to  be  two 
reals,  instead  of  three.  But  we  won't  quarrel  about  one  real.  My 
talk  with  Linda  is  worth  the  extra  one." 

"I  will  bet  she  said  nonsense  enough.  Senor  Pajarro — your  name 
will  slip  my  memory ' 

"Eaymond." 

"Eaymondo  ?" 

"That  is  good  enough.     Perhaps  you  will  remember  that  better." 

"Bueno;  but  what  was  I  going  to  say?  Was  it  about  the  four 
reals  you  are  to  pay  me?" 

"Come  now,  Bonito.  You  raised  it  to  three  a  while  ago;  now 
you've  got  it  to  four.  It  was  about  Linda  you  were  going  to  speak. 
You  were  saying  she  spoke  nonsense." 

"Ah,  si,  me  acuerdo.  It.  was  not  about  the  five  reals.  It  was 
about  Linda.  Si,  senor,  about  Linda — L-i-n-d-a.  She  was  to  return 
with  the  money — f-i-v-e  reals — yes,  five ;  it  was  not  six,  was  it,  senor  ? 
You  very  properly  corrected  me  when  I  said  six;  I  will  not  forget 
again." 

"Your  memory  is  so  treacherous,  old  fellow,  that  I  fear  for  your 
sanity." 

"My  memory  sometimes  fails  me,  Senor  Raymondo;  but  never 
about  money.  You  remember  I  said  it  was  only  six.  Linda  stays 
long.  Old  and  fat  as  I  am,  I  could  have  been  back  before  this.  If 
the  monte  pio  was  twenty  years  younger  and  better  looking,  I  would 
be  suspicious  that  she  was  dilly-dallying  in  his  shop.  But  no  such 
good  luck.  The  tonta  has  not  sense  enough  to  marry  him,  when  he  is 
c-r-a-z-y  for  her — and  r-i-c-h." 

When  Bonito  pronounced  the  word  "rich"  he  shut  one  eye  tightly 
and  ran  out  his  great  tongue  in  the  most  comical  manner,  to  better 
convey  his  conception  of  the  plethoric  state  of  the  monte  pio's  ex- 


GUY  RAYMOND.  123 

checquer.  A  light  tap  at  the  door  was  sufficient  to  rouse  the  activities 
of  the  grasping  old  jailer  who,  on  the  qui  vive  for  the  sounds  of 
Linda's  coming,  lost  no  time  in  admitting  her.  She  handed  to  Guy 
a  few  pieces  of  silver,  which  act  was  closely  watched  by  her  father. 

"Bonito,  I  had  better  settle  with  you  before  you  raise  the  figures 
much  higher.  Shall  I  pay  you  those  seven  reals  ?" 

"Seven,  senor!  Was  it  seven?  Not  eight — although  it  might 
have  been ;  but,  senor,  you  are  a  man  of  honor ;  I  leave  it  to  you." 

Guy  tossed  him  a  peso. 

"It  was  eight,  sure  enough !  I  said,  senor,  that  my  memory  was 
always  good  about  mone}r." 

He  dropped  the  piece  into  his  pocket  and  shuffled  off  to  his  room, 
doubtless  to  deposit  it  with  his  hoarded  treasure. 

"Here  is  a  notebook  and  pencil  which  Senor  Jose  sent  you/'  said 
Linda. 

"Had  the  monte  pio  no  books?" 

"Here  are  two  old  ones  he  bought  long  ago,  and  as  they  are  old 
and  damaged  he  said  the  charge  for  them  would  be  very  small." 

As  she  spoke  she  took  from  beneath  her  rebosa  two  delapidated 
volumes  and  handed  them  to  her  companion.  The  back  of  the  first 
was  gone.  He  turned  the  fly  leaf  and  read,  in  his  own  handwriting : 

"Guy  Raymond." 

It  was  his  Virgil !  A  film  passed  over  his  pupils,  as  he  read  the 
name  and  recognized  his  book,  until  the  letters  faded  and  left  the 
pa;?e — a  blank.  His  knees  grew  weak;  he  sank  clown  upon  the 
bench  and  leaned  against  the  prison  wall.  The  other  volume  was 
clutched  in  his  fingers,  still  unnoticed  when  his  sight  grew  clear  and 
the  letters  grew  plain  again: 

"Guy  Raymond." 

He  laid  down  the  book. 

Before  he  raised  the  lid  of  the  other,  his  eye  caught  the  title  upon 
the  back: 

"AGE  OF  REASON." 

Upon  the  flyleaf  of  this  he  read  the  name : 

"Paul  Raymond" 

written  in  the  bold  hand  of  his  father.  How  strange!  These  two 
volumes  had  found  their  way  to  him,  to  use  all  their  mute  eloquence, 
to  rouse  from  the  recesses  of  his  bosom  the  memories  of  a  happy  past, 
and  to  paint,  in  vivid  colors,  its  terrible  finale.  The  whole  panorama 
passed  before  him :  the  spring,  the  grove,  the  murmuring  current,  the 
dead  panther  and  the  nearly  fatal  shot,  the  smoking  ruin  and  his 
.captivity.  These  silent  witnesses  of  the  tragedy,  these  sad  reminders 


124  GUY  RAYMOND. 

of  a  thousand  tender  recollections,  that  linked  successively  the  rec- 
ords of  his  young  life,,  had  escaped  destruction  to  be  rescued  in  muti- 
lated form  by  alien  hands.  "Oh,  Stella!  Stella!  Can  it  be  that 
you  survive?  If  I  had  but  Rolla  with  me  now  to  give  a  whine  of 
sympathy!"  He  laid  the  second  book  down  by  its  companion,  and 
realized  that  Linda  was  watching  him  with  great  solicitude  depicted 
in  her  countenance.  • 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  before  Father  Ignacio  returned  from 
the  cathedral.  Without  the  assistance  of  Jose  he  had  to  devote  more 
of  his  time  to  the  arrangements  and  changes  he  had  contemplated 
making  in  the  decorations  of  the  grand  altar;  and  when  the  duties 
in  this  direction  had  been  discharged  he  had  to  attend  to  the  spir- 
itual wants  of  those  of  his  people  who  claimed  him  for  confessor. 
These  were  not  a  few,  and  by  the  time  the  row  of  kneeling  figures 
who,  enveloped  in  their  flowing  rebosas,  lined  his  side  of  the  church 
had  told  their  faults  and  the  last  shriven  penitent  had  issued  from 
the  great  front  portals  the  sun  was  looking  red  and  dull  from  the  tops 
of  the  western  hills. 

The  good  man  had  often  thought  of  his  young  American  friend 
during  his  varied  occupation  of  the  day  and  wondered  what  his  way- 
ward major  domo  was  doing  to  discover  him.  His  own  time  was  so 
nearly  filled  that  he  could  not  often  carry  out  his  own  wishes,  be- 
cause to  do  so  would  encroach  upon  some  duty  he  owed  to  his  sacred 
office.  But  for  this  he  would  have  sallied  forth  in  quest  of  Guy  when 
he  discovered  he  had  not  slept  in  the  room  assigned  to  him.  He 
was  met  by  his  major  domo  as  he  was  about  to  issue  from  the 
closure  of  the  church. 

"Well,  Jose,  what  news?" 

"Good  news,  and  bad  news,  Father." 

"You  found  him ?" 

"In  the  carcel." 

"Arrested  by  the  patrol  ?" 

"By  the  patrol.  It  appears  that  a  fellow  accused  him  of  killing 
his  brother  and  taking  the  horse  his  brother  was  riding;  but  Senor 
Raymond  was  arrested  for  fighting  and  whipping  his  accuser.  His 
being  an  American  is  also,  perhaps,  against  him." 

"I  will  write  a  note  to  the  Colonel  and  maybe  we  can  get  him  out 
tonight,"  said  Father  Ignacio,  in  a  half  meditative  jonn.  as  he 
walked  away  towards  his  house. 


GUY  BAYMOXD.  125 


"Were  you  unwell  just  now,  senor?"  asked  Linda,  when  Guy  had 
laid  down  the  volume,  in  which  was  written  the  name  of  his  father. 

"Not  unwell,  Linda.  Those  books  you  brought  me  were  mine, 
years  ago.  My  name  is  writ-ten  in  this,  my  father's  name  in  that. 
SOP.  look  for  yourself."  , 

She  looked  as  requested. 

"That  is  my  name.  I  wrote  it  there,  myself.  It  is  my  Virgil,  a 
hook  I  studied  when  I  was  learning  a  language  from  which  your  own 
beautiful  tongue  has  been  largely  drawn.  These  books  made  me  re- 
member happy  days — days  that  never  can  return." 

"Jose  spoke  of  your  Indian  girl,  who  gave  you  a  medal.  Was 
she  with  you  in  those  happy  days?" 

"No,  Linda,  The  great  sorrow  of  my  life,  the  time  which  ended 
those  happy  days,  was  the  cause  of  my  meeting  the  Indian  girl  of 
whom  Jose  spoke.  Her  tribe  took  me  captive  and  but  for  Laoni 
this  body  of  mine  would  have  been  burned  to  cindeis  on  a  fire  already 
lighted  for  ray  destruction/5 

"Laoni.     Was  that  her  name?" 

"Yes,  the  dnuirhter  of  the  Lipan  chief." 

"She  saved   your  life?" 

"She   did." 

"She  must  have  loved  you.  Was  she  good  and  pretty?  All  Indian 
women  I  have  seen  wore  anything  but  good  looking." 

"Laoni  was  an  exception.  She  bad  none  of  the  savage  in  her 
nature.  No  truer  heart  ever  beat  than  hers.  Her  form  was  perfect, 
her  features  intelligent  and  regular  and  her  step  elastic.  Unfor- 
tunately, she  loved  me  too  well ;  but  she  would  not  leave  her  father 
to  escape  with  me." 

Bonito  here  called  for  Linda,  in  a  half  angry  tone,  and  she  left 
her  companion  to  himself. 

Guy  examined  the  notebook  which  Jose  had  sent  him  and  dis- 
covered it  to  be  a  very  plain  affair,  containing  about  twenty  leaves 
of  blank  paper.  His  object  in  sending  for  it  was  to  amuse  himself 
by  writing,  in  the  event  that  be  should  be  kept  in  confinement  for 
a  number  of  days.  He  turned  to  the  first  page  to  record  the  date  of 
his  arrival  in  the  city,  when  he  discovered  that  his  pencil  was  a 
new  one  and  had  never  been  sharpened.  Having  no  knife,  he  ap- 
pro; ir-hed  Bonito's  door  and  called  : 

"Bonito !" 

That  individual  was  fussing  with  Linda,  who  appeared  at  the 
door,  with  her  rebosa  thrown  over  her  head  and  shoulders,  her  father 


rUY 

following.     The  daughter  had  requested  him  to  let  her  out  that  she 
might  go  to  confession,  and  he  was  complaining  at  being  disturbed. 

"If  this  Kaymondo  would  keep  in  his  cell  I  could  leave  the  corridor 
open  and  you  could  confess  fifty  times  a  day  and  not  disturb  me  once." 

"Well  then,  Bonito,"  said  Guy,  who  had  been  hitherto  unobserved 
by  the  grumbler,  "I  will  remain  in  my  cell  tomorrow  and  perhaps 
you  will  miss  the  money  which  I  would  have  to  pay  if  I  used  the 
privilege  of  the  court." 

The  jailor  was  so  well  caught  that  he  made  his  way  doggedly  and 
silent  to  dismiss  his  daughter.  On  returning  from  the  door,  he 
approached  close  to  Guy  and,  in  nn  Apologetic  undertone,  assured 
him  that  no  one  could  comprehend  'how  vexatious  was  Linda  at 
times  and  that  he  must  not  mind  the  hasty  words  used  by  him  when 
out  of  humor. 

"I'll  not  mention  it  again,  Bonito,  if  you  will  lend  me  your  knife 
to  sharpen  this  pencil." 

"Prisoners  have  no  business  with  knives.  After  sharpening  the 
pencil,  you  could  cut  my  throat,"  said  the  old  fellow,  drawing  from 
his  pocket  and  opening  a  long-bladed  knife. 

"You  are  a  cunning  pajarro.  1  will  cut  your  pencil  for  you." 
So  saying  Bonito  took  the  pencil  and  surprised  the  other  by  the 
dexterity  he  used  in  fashioning  a  point. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Guy,  as  the  pencil  was  handed  to  him.  "Yon 
have  sharpened  pencils  before.  But  you  forget  that  I  am  on  parole 
to  not  attempt  to  escape;  and  therefore,,  your  throat  would  be  safe 
if  I  had  a  dozen  knives." 

"Ah!  Paroles  are  good  enough  to  talk  about;  but  they  are  con- 
tinually broken." 

"By  Mexicans,  perhaps." 

"By  all  nations.  I  have  seen  pirates  keep  their  paroles,  in 
intercourse  with  pirates.  Lafitte  had  honor,  but  it  was  the 
honor  to  be  found  among  thieves.  Paroles  are  binding  as  long  as 
it  is  less  dangerous  to  observe  than  to  break  them.  Senor  Raymondo 
is  young  yet." 

"Were  you  acquainted  with  Lafitte  ?" 

"It  would  not  help  you  to  know  it.  Sometimes  people  ask  too 
many  questions." 

The  jailer  shuffled  off  to  his  den  as  he  said  this  and  Guy,  turning 
to  his  bench,  seated  himself  to  try  his  pencil.  The  means  of  writing 
had  not  been  within  his  reach  since  the  distraction  of  his  home.  He 
began  to  write  on  the  first  page : 

"Arrived   in    San    Antonio    October,    1835.      Escaped    from    the 


GUY  RAYMOND.  127 

Lipan  village,  on  the  San  Saba,  four  days  before.  The  night 
before  entering  the  town  I  camped  with,  a  party  on  the  San 
Geronimo  creek.  The  party  conHsfcd  of  Father  Ignacio  of  the  Ca- 
thedral of  San  Fernando,  his  major  doino  and  two  inozos  leading 
pack-mules.  Also  with  the  party  was  a  Senor  Gonzales,  who  was  evi- 
dently a  man  of  some  rank.  The  latter  probably  used  an  assumed 
name.  On  this  creek  1  must  have  lost  my  medal.  From  Jose's  de- 
scription of  a,  medal  in  ihe  pawn  broker's  ii  must  be  the  one  I  lost. 
Owing  to  a  difficulty  I  had  at  Ihe  Hull's  Head  (Cabeza  de  Toro)  T 
\vas  put  in  this  prison  ihe  night  of  the  same  day  of  mv  arrival  in 
the  town.  The  night  of  my  arrest  I  was  betting  at  monte  and  had 
singular  luck,  coining  out  winner  ninety  Mexican  dollars  (pesos). 
Notwithstanding  my  success  it  may  be  my  last  indulgence  in  gam- 
bling. 'Bonito'  is  the  name  of  my  jailer.  Tie  is  an  oddity.  Gross, 
flabby  and  rotund,  he  is  a  mere  animal.  His  memory  is  very  elastic 
whore  particular  amounts  of  change  are  involved.  The  old  villain 
went  from  one  real  to  seven,  as  the  charge  for  my  remaining  in  the 
court  of  the  prison  during  the  day.  When  I  tossed  him  eight,  he 
took  the  entire  amount.  Linda  bears  no  resemblance  to  him.  One 
would  never  suspect  the  close  relationship  of  father  and  daughter. 
The  old  man  has  not  given  her  many  advantages;  yet  how  well  she 
speaks!  Bonito  uses  very  good  language,  however.  I  must  tell  Jose 
to  bring  Rolla,  if  I  stay  here,  lie  must  miss  me!  Poor  dog!  He 
has  been  faithful  through  all  our  adventures.  Adventures!  We 
had  a  plenty  the  last  (wo  \cars.  The  first  opportunity  I  intend  to 
write  the  story  of  my  captivity.  It  would  be  interesting  reading. 
But  I  will  not  be  content  to  do  anything  until  I  can  know  of  Stella's 
fate.  I  wonder  what  ever  become  of  Mr.  Tr — 

As  Guy  reached  this  far  with  his  scribbling,  Bonito  passed  to  the 
corridor  and  admitted  his  daughter,  who  had  returned  from  her  duty 
at  the  church.  She  hastened  over  to  the  young  American  and,  with 
one  of  her  pleasant  smiles,  informed  him  that  she  had  just  left  Father 
Ignacio  and  Jose  in  consultation  in  front  of  San  Fernando  and  that 
she  was  quite  sure  they  were  talking  about  him  and  the  chances  for 
his  release.  Her  father  cut  short  their  interview  by  reminding  her 
that  duties  unperformed  awaited  her  indoors,  and  if  she  gossiped 
much  longer  he  would  have  to  go  without  supper.  It  had  grown  so 
late  that  Guy  did  not  return  to  his  writing,  but  walked  up  and  down 
Ihe  court  for  exercise,  thinking  about  a  thousand  and  one  things 
bonrim:  on  his  past,  present  and  future.  A  strange  fate  seemed  to 
be  in  pursuit,  of  him  ever  since  Ihe  eventful  Sunday  on  the  Salado. 
Vet,  when  the  heavy  hand  of  wrong  had  crowded  him  to  the  verge 


128  GUY  EAYMOND. 

of  disaster,  the  genius  of  pity  had  waved  back  the  oppressor  and 
developed  saving  influences  to  shield  and  .protect  him.  When  bloody 
and  disfigured  from  his  wounded  scalp  the  savage  heart  of  Chicha 
softened.  The  renegade  Pedro  had  counselled  him  to  turn  Lipan  for 
safety.  Laoni's  was  the  crowning  favor,  and  her  subsequent  devotion 
to  his  interests  was  second  only  to  the  love  she  bore  her  father.  The 
good  priest  and  Jose  were  now  his  friends  of  a  few  hours,  while  the 
chivalry  of  Ruiz  had  made  him  an  ally  simultaneous  with  an  intro- 
duction. 

Old  Bonito  broke  up  his  meditations. 

"Senor  Eaymondo  must  go  to  his  cell.  It  is  time  for  the  sentinel 
to  take  his  post  in  the  court.  Here  is  a  blanket  and  a  pillow  that 
rattle-brained  girl  said  I  must  bring  for  you.  I  furnish  this  and  not 
a  quartilla  of  pay  do  I  get  for  it — not  a  quartilla,  senor." 

Guy  followed  him.,  not  heeding  his  gabble.  Once  in  his  cell,  he 
prepared  his  bed  and  had  just  laid  himself  down,  when  the  door  was 
opened,  disclosing  Bonito  with  a  lighted  candle. 

"Here  is  a  piece  of  candle  that  will  last  you  for  an  hour  or  so, 
and  here  are  the  books  you  left  on  the  bench." 

"Thanks,  Bonito." 

"Don't  thank  Bonito.  If  she  had  her  way  a  prison  would  be  a 
palace,  and  prisoners  would  be  treated  like  princes.  Good  night, 
senor." 

"Good  night,  Bonito." 

The  tramp  of  the  relief  was  heard  in  the  corridor  as  the  jailer 
gained  the  court  and,  a  minute  more,  a  sentinel  was  walking  the 
usual  post,  Bonito  hung  the  lantern  over  his  door,  then  disappeared 
within,  muttering  his  satisfaction  that  the  day's  duties  were  over. 

The  sentinel  crossed  to  the  bench  that  Guy  had  occupied,  picked 
up  something,  examined  it  for  a  moment,  then  slipped  it  in  his  pocket. 

It  was  the  notebook  in  which  Guy  had  been  writing. 

The  light  in  the  cell,  struggling  through  the  high,  narrow  window 
until  a  late  hour  told  that  the  prisoner  was  making  the  most  of  his 
piece  of  candle.  Its  flame,  though  feeble  to  illumine,  possessed  giant 
power  to  dispel  the  oppressiveness  of  solitude  in  confinement.  With 
light,  books  are  appreciable  companions ;  they  speak  to  our  reason ; 
they  supply  the  motive  power  to  thought  to  bear  us  away  on  the 
wings  of  speculation  to  the  transcendant  fields  of  the  conceptual  or 
the  ideal  world.  Guy's  library  was  limited,  but  his  two  books  wore 
old  friends.  With  these  we  will  leave  him  to  commune,  until  til  IP 
flickering  light  will  linvo  warned  him  that  he  must  seek  solace  from 
a  slumber  now  easier  to  woo  through  Linda's  thoughtfulness. 


GUY  1 1  AY  MONO.  129 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

The  Feast  of  the  Holy  Eosary  was  destined  to  be  brig] it'  and  sunny. 
The  chime  of  San  Fernando  pealed  a  merry  melody  as  the  hour 
arrived  to  summons  the  faithful  to  the  grand  high  mass,  which  was 
to  be  offered  in  honor  of  the  day.  The  crowd  at  the  entrance  to  the 
cathedral  grounds  presented  a  conglomerate  of  the  population.  The 
scarlet  sash  of  the  young  swell  and  the  gaudy  uniform  of  the  military 
mingled  with  the  plainer  dross  of  tlio  average  oiti/on,  these  coufrasi- 
ing  wiih  the  dirt  and  rags  of  the  proletariat,  and  the  slouch y  garment 
of  tlio  barofooted  common  soldiery.  A  redeeming  feature  of  the 
scene  \VMS  the  presence  of  a  mo\ing  line  of  female  passers  who,  half 
enveloped  in  rebosas  of  every  hue,  moved  gracefully  through  the  crowd 
io  ihe  grand  porlal  of  Hie  edifice.  The-e  latter  disclosed  features  vary- 
ing from  those  bordering  on  Hie  pure  Indian  to  the  more  delicate1 
types  which  approached  nearer  to  the  Castillian.  The  throng  had 
parted  to  let  them  pass  and  manv  a  robosa  was  more  tightly  drawn, 
to  evade  the  rude  inspection  of  the  crowd,  or  the  bra/en  stare  of  a 
group  of  voting  bloods  who,  standing  near  the  gateway,  indulged  in 
a  r"\  iew  of  those  who  eniercd. 

"Here  comes  the  princess/5  said  one  of  the  party. 

"She  moves  like  one."1  said  another. 

"Don  Juan  spoiled  her  bv  an  American  education,''  said  the  first. 
speaker. 

-Mow  so,  Sancho?" 

"She  has  little  use,  for  "Mexicans  and  has,  doubtless,  lost  her  heart- 
in  (he  United  State-,"  replied  Sancho. 

As  Sancho  spoke,  the  lady,  who  had  been  the  subject  of  their 
remarks,  swept  by  them  with  a  nod  of  recognition,  and  passed  on 
into  the  church. 

"A  beauty,  and  no  mistake!  She  has  a.  proud  look  and  a  foreign 
air  that  (ells  plainlv  she  has  not,  passed  all  her  davs  in  Bexar.  What 
is  her  name,  Sancho ?" 

"Sciiorita  Beatrice  Xavarro.     Tim  younger  daughter  of  Don  Juan 

arro,   a    man   of  prominence  IH-IV.      His   elder  danghtrr   was   the 
widow  of   Perez,  now   (he   wife  of  an   American." 
our   princess  been  back   from  school  long?" 

"But  a  twelvemonth,  and  she  already  has  broken  the  hearts  of 
(wo  suit 

•''Say  you  so?     Who,  pray,  are  the  unfortunates?" 


130  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"Captain  Castanado,  the  first;  Manuel  Ruiz,  the  second  victim." 

"Ruiz  !    He  is  the  one  who  so  recently  disappeared  ?" 

"The  same.  He  is  a  traitor  to  Mexico,  and  I  trace  his  treason  to 
this  girl's  American  proclivities.  I  tell  you,  she  is  puro  Gringo. 
Her  sister's  husband  is  a  Gringo  and  poor  Don  Juan,  their  father, 
is  greatly  under  their  influence." 

As  Sancho  ceased  speaking,  a  confusion  in  the  crowd  attracted 
the  attention  of  the  group  around  him.  The  approach  of  four  men, 
bearing  a  litter,  proved  to  be  the  cause  of  the  commotion,  while  a 
closer  inspection  disclosed  that  they  bore  a  human  form,  covered 
with  a  coarse  cloth  from  the  head  to  the  waist.  The  bearers  set  their 
burden  down  near  the  edge  of  the  acequia,  as  if  to  rest. 

"What  have  you  here,  friends?"  asked  Sancho. 

"We  do  not  know,  senor.  We  are  taking  the  body  to  the  office 
of  the  Alcalde. 

Sancho  lifted  the  cloth  from  the  face  of  the  dead,  and  was 
startled  to  discover  the  rigid  features  of  A'asquez,  his  hair  and  cloth- 
ing wet  and  dripping,  while  a  ghastly  cut  laid  open  his  throat  from 
ear  to  ear. 

"For  Dios !"  he  exclaimed.  "It  is  Vasquez,  the  fellow  who  used 
to  hang  around  the  Cabeza  de  Toro." 

"The  very  fellow,"  said  one  of  the  litter  bearers.  "I  recognize  him 
now  since  you  have  named  him.  The  last  time  I  saw  him  he  was 
with  Manuel  Ruiz,  coming  out  of  the  monte  pio's." 

"That  is  important  to  remember/'  said  Sancho.  "But  where  did 
you  find  the  body?" 

"By  the  old  mill,  senor,  in  the  eddy  between  the  rapids." 

The  presence  of  th'e  ghastly  spectacle  added  to  the  motley  throng 
which  now  blocked  the  walk  and  prevented  ingress  to  the  cathedral, 
whence  issued  the  loud  tones  of  the  organ,  indicating  the  commence- 
ment of  the  service.  A  way  was  finally  made  for  the  litter  bearers, 
who  resumed  their  burden  and  proceeded  on  thir  way.  The  crowd 
receded  from  the  gateway  and  perceptihlv  thinned  as  the  complement 
of  proletarians  furnished  an  escort  for  the  murdered  Yastpiez,  while 
ihe  most  respectable  element  either  entered  the  church  or  lingered  a 
while  before  following  their  inclinations  as  to  immediate  points  of 
destination. 

"Are  you  going  in  to  mass,  Sancho?"  asked  one  of  his  com- 
panions, who,  alone  of  the  late  group,  still  lingered  near  him. 

"No,  Carlos.  I  believe  I  will  follow  thai  corpse.  I  feel  a  singular 
interest  in  this  murder;  yet,  to  tell  the  truth,  1  cannot  tell  why." 


GUY  RAYMOND.  l;)l 

"Well  then,  adios.     You  may  turn  detective;  but  as  for  me,  I  am 
going  in  to  see  how  the  princess  looks  at  prayers/" 

"Like  other  women,  doubtless,  unless  it  be  to  eyes  whose  owner 
is  deeply  enamored,  like  poor  Castanado,  or  the  traitor,  Ruiz." 

"Bueno !     Amigo,  mio.     Adios,  hasta  la  tarde." 

The  two  friends  parted.  The  one  followed  the  litter,  now  well 
up  the  street;  the  other  entered  the  church,  now  crowded  by  the 
kneeling  or  seated  figures  of  the  congregation.  The  old  church  would 
have  presented  a  scene  at  once  novel  and  weird,  to  the  eye  of  a 
si  ranger.  The  high,  dark  walls  reflected  none  of  the  struggling  light 
from  the  narrow  openings,  and  the  moon-like  glow  which  fell  in 
mellow  waves  from  the  ample  dome  lent  a  ghostly  appearance  to 
objects  below,  while  deep  shades  rested  in  the  angles  of  the  trans- 
eept.  The  tall  tapers  upon  the  grand  altar  illuminated  the  western 
extension  with  an  unsteady  light  that  caused  shadows  to  dance  across 
the  surface  of  a  mammoth  painting  of  the  crucifixion,  which  extended 
from  wall  to  wall,  and  from  the  tabernacle  to  the  high  triple  window 
overlooking  it.  The  solemn  chant  of  the  Kyre  Klison  lent,  its  influ- 
ence to  weave  a  magic  charm  in  an  already  impressive  scene.  MS  the 
choir  responded  to  the  celebrant  who,  with  outstretched  arms,  was 
invoking  the  descent  of  the  man-Clod  to  the  tcrrestial  altar.  The 
congregation  did  not,  appeal-  in  svmpathv  with  the  sublime  conception 
mv  >lved  in  the  august  sacrifice,  for  there  was  a  calmness  and  notable 
absence  of  devotion  in  their  facial  expressions  which  indicated  me- 
chanical performance  of  exercises,  ingrained  into  their  natures  by 
the  accidents  of  birth  and  i  raining.  'The  entrance  of  two  persons  at 
I  lie  conclusion  of  the  Kvro  'Klison  caused  the  turning  of  manv  heads 
lo  get  a  look  at  the  late  comers,  who,  seemingly  not  satisfied  with 
icinute  positions,  were  pushing  their  way  nearer  to  the  altar.  One 
of  them,  a  youth  just,  entered  into  manhood,  rather  hesitated  to  obey 
the  girl  companion,  but  her  significant  motions  decided  him  to  follow 
her  th rough  the  crowd  of  kneeling  worshipers.  The  ^irl,  a  brunette, 
seemed  perfectly  at  ease  as  she  led  the  way  to  a  position  which  she 
e\iiletitly  had  aimed  to  occupy.  She  knelt  at  once  and.  crossing  her- 
self, arranged  her  rebos;i,  then  looked  complacently  around  the 
church.  Her  companion,  taking  a  place  close  at.  hand,  leaned  grace- 
full  v  against  the  northern  wall.  He  took  in  the  situation  with  a  look 
of  blended  interest  and  curiosity.  His  eye  kindled  with  intelligence 
as  he  comprehended,  first,  the  words  of  the  Gloria,  then  the  (Vedo, 
from  the  choir,  followed,  in  the  progress  of  the  mass,  by  the  chanting 
of  tin-  hiter  Nosier  by  the  celebrant.  (Juy — for  it  was  he — owed  his 
jo  master  languages  from  his  proficiency  in  the  Latin.  The 


132  GUY  RAYMOND. 

first  time  he  had  ever  witnessed  a  celebration  of  the  mass,  yet  he 
found  he  was  able  to  comprehend  the  drift  of  its  cermonies.  In  this 
fact  he  recognized  the  splendid  tact  of  the  Church  of  Rome  in  adopt- 
ing a  universal  and  unchanging  language  as  a  fundamental  requisite 
for  the  establishment  of  a  universal  faith.  He  was  pursuing  this 
train  of  thought  in  oblivion  to  the  personnel  of  the  congregation, 
feeling  his  own  superiority  to  these  unread  and  credulous  votaries 
of  a  traditional  religion,  when  a  lady,  who  had  been  kneeling  near, 
arose  and  turned  to  leave  the  church.  As  her  face  became  revealed, 
it  appeared  to  Guy  to  be  very  beautiful,  and  when  she  passed  close 
by  him,  their  eyes  met  for  an  instant.  It  was  but  for  an  instant;  yet 
both  received  a  shock  from  the  encountering  glances.  In  the  lady's 
case  it  might  have  been  from  surprise;  with  the  gentleman  it  was 
doubtless  surprise,  reinforced  by  ill-concealed  admiration.  The  latter 
had  not  imagined  that  within  the  bounds  of  Bexar  there  dwelt  so  fair 
a  woman.  It  is  to  be  presumed  that,  next  to  an  apparition,  the 
unexpected  presence  of  the  handsome  youth,  with  blonde  complexion 
and  unmistakeable  Anglo-Saxon  lineage,  would  most1  surprise  the 
lady.  Carlos  had  signified  his  curiosity  to  witness  her  at  prayers, 
while  Sancho  might  turn  detective.  She  was  the  "princess"  of  their 
conversation  and  now  he  had  seen  her  at  her  devotions.  Carlos  was 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  church  when  Beatrice  Navarro  rose  to 
leave.  He  had,  been  closely  watching  her  and  had  observed  the  ex- 
changed glances  between  Guy  and  the  beauty.  The  eyes  of  the  two 
men  met.  Those  of  Carlos  expressed  defiance.  Guy  turned  to  follow 
with  a  last  look  the  retreating  form,  then  sought  the  eyes  across  the 
way,  which  had  so  plainly  indicated  disapprobation.  They  were  still 
fixed  upon  him  and  the  menace  of  their  expression  was  unmistak- 
able. He  thought  perhaps  he  had  aroused  the  ire  of  a  jealous  lover, 
and  simply  smiled  in  answer  to  all  the  look  might  mean.  The 
remainder  of  the  mass  apparently  claimed  his  attention,  as  had  done 
the  earlier  exercises,  but  a  lovely  face  was  pictured  in  conjunction 
with  every  object  mirrored  in  his  vision.  His  thoughts  recurred  but 
once  to  the  jealous  lover,  and  coincident  with  the  thought  he  glanced 
in  his  direction,  but  Carlos  had  disappeared.  He  concluded  to  whisper 
to  Linda,  whom  he  had  accompanied  to  church,  and  make  inquiry 
about  the  lady  whose  beauty  had  so  impressed  him,  but  on  turning: 
to  carry  out  his  intention,  he  found  that  she,  too,  was  missinjr.  He 
felt  like  taking  himself  oft3  at  this  discovery.  The  appearance  of 
Father  Ignacio,  however,  as  he  left  the  chancel  to  ascend  to  the 
pulpit,  altered  his  mind,  and  he  resigned  himself  to  the  hearing  of 
a  Spanish  sermon. 


GUY  EAYMOND.  133 

The  good  father  took  for  his  text,  "He  Hint  will  not  hear  the 
church,  let  him  be  to  you  a  heathen  and  a  publican." 

From  the  consideration  of  this  command  he  drifted  to  the  special 
injunction  of  the  church  to  practice  the  devotions  peculiar  to  the 
uses  of  the  Eosary,  and  reminded  the  faithful  of  the  special  indul- 
gences which  had  been  from  time  to  time  granted  by  the  sovereign 
pontiff  to  those  who  had  frequent  recourse  to  means  so  potent  for 
salvation.  The  father  was  a  llnenl  speaker,  but  his  audience  was 
-'ntiv  apathetic-,  (luy  himself,  interested  from  the  sheer  novelty 
of  the  points  of  faith  discussed,  observed  the  listlessncss  of  the  con- 
gregation and  concluded  it  was  due  to  the  frequency  of  these  feast- 
day  discourses  about  a  religion  rendered  too  familiar  by  an  unchang- 
ing routine  which  offered  no  room  for  animal  excitement  or  emotional 
(lisplav.  He  sauntered  out  of  the  place  when  the  congregation  had 
been  dismissed,  intending  to  wait'  at  the  gate  for  the  priest,  who  must 
out  at  the  front  on  his  way  home.  He  made  his  way  through 
th--  crowd  of  women,  of  whose  sex  four-fifths  of  the  attendants  were 
composed,  and  reached  the  open  air  in  time  to  see  Jose  just'  leaving 
the  gate.  He  was  about  to  call  to  him,  when  a  touch  upon  his 
shoulder  caused  him.  to  turn,  and  he  saw  Linda  by  his  side. 

"Ah,  runaway!"  he  exclaimed,  "why  did  yon  leave  me  among  all 
these  people?" 

"I  thought  sen  or  could  take  care  of  himself  anywhere,  and  surely, 
in  <»ur  holy  church  you  needed  no  protection." 

"But  you  missed  a  good  sermon,  Linda.  Father  Tgnacio  told  us 
all  about 'the  Holy  Eosary,  and  of  all  the  indulgences  to  be  obtained 
by  bead  praying." 

"It  was  good   for  you  to  hear,  because  you   are  no  Catholic.     \W 

it  so  often.  .  You  are  a  Protestant,  senor?" 
"T  am  no  Protestant,  Linda." 
"N"o?  You  have  no  religion  ?" 
"Yes— duty." 

"T   never   heard    of   more   than   two ;    Catholics   and    Protestants, 
is  the  true  faith,  senor.   for   Father  Tgnacio  says  so." 
ell,  Linda,  you   continue  to  do  and  believe  as  the   father  tells 
He  will    never  give  you   bad    advice." 
will,  senor." 
'ell  me,  Linda,  why  you  left  the  church  before  mass  was  over/' 

y  do  you  ask?" 
"Curiosity" 

"Do   vou   imagine  my  leaving  concerned  you?"  she  asked,  looking 
him  archly. 


134  GUY  KAYMOND. 

"Not  especially.  But  you  were  my  companion  and  it  seems  to 
me  if  you  had  not  wished  to  conceal  your  going  you  would  have  let 
me  know  about  it." 

"But  the  padre  would  have  been  displeased,  had  he  seen  me 
speak  with  you  at  mass." 

"You  could  have  given  me  a  sign.  Tell  me  the  truth,  and  sa}' 
that  your  leaving  did  concern  me." 

"If  you  will  not  urge  me,  perhaps  I  will  tell  you  the  next  time 
I  see  you." 

"Now  I  am  sure  it  concerned  me." 

"And  I  am  sure  I  will  see  you  very  soon." 

"Adios,  senor,"  and  Linda  left  him  with  a  smile  and  a  look  that 
accused  him  of  possessing  an  abundant  share  of  curiosity. 

Guy  mused  as  follows : 

"Perhaps  her  leaving  the  church  just  after  she  left  it,  are  incidents 
between  which  there  may  exist  some  privity.  And  if  this  be  true, 
how  can  I  be  concerned  with  either  incident?  T  never  will  forget 
those  eyes  of  hers." 

Father  Ignacio  overtook  him  a  few  steps  further  on  and  slapping 
him  familiarly  on  the  shoulder,  greeted  him  cordially. 

"I  was  glad  to  see  you  at  mass.  From  the  carcel  to  the  cathedral. 
If  you  were  only  a  good  Catholic  I  would  have  thought  that  your 
purpose  was  to  give  thanks  for  your  liberation." 

"My  thanks  are  due  to  a  more  definite  benefactor.  But  for  you 
I  would  be  a  prisoner  still.' 

"The  Colonel  was  not  very  willing  to  trust  you,  but  I  had  no 
trouble  with  my  friend,  General  Cos." 

"He  arrived  after  iny  arrest?" 

"Yesterday." 

"Are  there  any  charges  against  me?" 

"There  were  some,  but  your  accuser  has  disappeared." 

"My  parole  then  will  be  good  until  my  accuser  shows  himself 

"That  I  cannot  answer.     What  you  have  to  do  is  to  keep  qui 
and  get  into  no  more  scrapes.    Your  nationality  is  against  you.    Sen 
Maverick  and  two  other  Americans  were  sent  out  of  the  lines  yester- 
day.    Had  it  not  been  for  these  charges  you  would    have  been  se 
out  with  them." 

"That  would  have  suited  me,  for  I  long  to  join  my  countryme: 

"You  will  be  safer  by  remaining  with  me,  provided  always  y 
follow  my  advice." 

"But  Father,  my  inaction  here  is  chafing  me  while  the  country 
is  in  arms.  And  then  if  I  were  at  liberty  I  could  begin  (lie  search 
for  my  dear  little  sister." 


GUY  RAYMOND.  135 

"Tune,  senor,  but  remember  always,  that  the  truly  brave  are 
patient  and  self-commanding." 

Jose  met  them  at  the  door  and  announced  that  dinner  was  ready 
to  be  served. 


CHAPTEE  XX. 

Guy  also  attended  vespers  on  the  Feast  of  the  Holy  Rosary,  going 
to  the  cathedral  with  his  reverend  host.  The  sparse  congregation 
surprised  him  as  he  glanced  around  after  the  singing  had  com- 
menced. The  afternoon  service  had  several  rival  attractions  in  this 
typical  Mexican  town,  chief  among  which  were  the  cockfights,  a 
sport  dear  to  Mexican  hearts,  not  alone  for  the  excitement  produced 
loj  the  battles  in  the  pit,  but  as  a  gambling  device.  The  cockpits 
were  always  well  attended  Sunday  afternoons  by  votaries  who  had 
performed  their  religious  duties  by  mass  attendance  in  the  morning. 

Among  the  faces,  half  concealed  by  the  draperies  of  the  national 
wrap,  he  vainly  searched  for  that  of  the  beautiful  lady  whose  mo- 
mentary glance  had  so  electrified  him.  That  face  had  haunted  him 
ever  since  and  turn  his  thoughts  into  never  so  remote  a  channel,  the 
fair  apparition  would  form  a  part  of  the  mental  picture  wrought  by 
his  reflections.  After  vespers,  which  he  enjoyed  as  a  diversion  from 
the  prospective  dullness  of  the  afternon,  he  rejoined  Father  Ignacio 
in  the  sitting  room  of  the  priest's  house,  where  the  latter  repaired  to 
enjoy  a  smoke  and  a  rest  after  the  good  work  of  the  day. 

Guy,  as  has  been  already  hinted,  professed  no  religion  as  taught 
by  orthodox  creeds,  but  had  been  raised  a  free  thinker.  He  had  been 
taught  to  rise  above  mysticism  in  his  inquiries  after  the  truths  of 
existence,  to  view  nature  and  her  laws  from  the  standpoints  of  reason 
and  experience,  aided  by  actual  discovery  and  scientific  development. 
He  found  himself  now  in  the  very  atmosphere  of  orthodoxy  with  a 
I ii  M'<tly  host  and  benefactor  whose  honest  work  and  pure  life  seemed 
to  combat  the  negations  of  infidelity  and  demonstrate  a  heaven-born 
inspiration.  He  could  not  resist  such  reflections  as  he  watched  the 
placid  expression  of  the  handsome  features  of  the  priest.  He  finally 
opened  the  conversation. 

"Father  Ignacio,  I  would  like  to  ask  you  if,  in  pure  reason,  you 
actually  believe  that  the  use  of  rosaries  are  necessary  for  salvation." 

"Yes  and  no,"  the  priest  replied.  "It  is  not  necessary  for  salvation 
thai  you  use  beads  to  pray,  but  if  you  reject  the  use  of  the  rosary, 
tlirnuo-},  rebellion  to  the  authority  of  the  Holy  Church,  which  lias 
decided  that  it  is  a  help  to  devotion,  or  if  you  bring  ridicule  on 


136  GUY  RAYMOND. 

customs  adopted  by  her  authority,  you  will  be  guilty  of  mortal  sin, 
and  through  mortal  sin  one  will  surely  be  lost,  without  contrition  and 
penance." 

"All  this  which  you  say  is  predicated  on  the  divine  mission  of  the 
church  which,  having  such  origin,  is  infallible.,  making  her  decrees 
the  commands  of  the  Creator." 

"Senor  Raymond  is  quite  right." 

"Then  your  position  is  absolutely  unassailable,  granting  your 
premises  which  affirm  the  incarnation  of  God  in  Christ." 

"And  Senor  Raymond  does  not  believe  in  the  incarnation?" 

"Not  more  than  in  the  incarnations  of  Vishnu." 

"Those  were  extravagant  superstitions." 

"I   admit  that." 

"The  incarnation  of  our  God  was  a  long-looked  for  event  by  a 
chosen  people  who  were  for  many  general  ions  under  the  immediate 
protection  of  heaven,  and  in  constant  communication  with  fhe  Creator, 
who  appeared  often  to  the  prophets.  Besides,  the  niir:ieles  of  Christ 
aiir!  the  works  of  his  followers  fully  substantiate  his  claims  to 
divinity." 

"These  are  all  potent  arguments,  my  good  Kaiher,  and  1  presume 
neither  of  us  could  convince  the  other.  I  merely  want  to  learn  some- 
thing of  your  views  about  rosaries  and  those  indulgences  you  preached 
about  this  morning." 

"Indulgences  are  those  bugbears  which  make  the  Protestants  rave 
so  much.  They  construe  them  into  licenses  to  commit  sin.  An  in- 
dulgence can  be  gained  only  through  earnest  prayers  and  good  works, 
and  instead  of  being  pardons  for  sins  to  bo  committed,  they  are  remis- 
sions of  temporal  punishment  for  sin  already  committed;  [ire  condi- 
tioned on  valid  performances  of  good  works  and  sincerity  of  prayers. 
Rosaries  were  doubtless  first  introduced  for  the  illiterate,  but  they 
became  endeared  to  the  faithful  and,  when  blessed,  are  without  doubt 
great  incentives  to  devotion." 

"You  have  many  such  helps  to  holiness.  The  scapulars,  medals 
and  pictures  are  also  regarded  as  very  necessary  auxiliaries  in  the 
attainment  of  heaven,  are  they  not?" 

"They  are  certainly  reminders  of  the  sacrifices  which  a  loving  God 
has  made  for  us  directly  and  through  His  saints  and  are  no  more 
objectionable  than  the  pri/ed  mementoes  and  portraits  of  our  lovod 
ones  who  have  preceded  us  into  eternity." 

"That  is  a  very  reasonable  view,  hut  I  have  hoard  that  some 
Catholics  attach  undue  virtue  to  articles  Ibal  ha\e  been  blessed,  sucl 
as  beads,  medals,  candles  and  wafer,  and  imagine  fhaf  their  m«- 


: 


GUY  BAYMOND.  137 

possession  will  ward  off  evil.  We  once  had  an  Irishman  in  our  em- 
ploy, a  Mr.  Trigg,  who  owned  a  blessed  candle  and  a  bottle  of  holy 
water.  To  these  he  all  ached  the  greatest  importance.  I  remember 
one  night.,  there  was  a  terrible  blow  which  threatened  to  increase  to 
a  hurricane.  We  were  all  very  much  alarmed,  when  Mr.  Trigg  pro- 
duced his  piece  of  candle  and.  lighiing  it,  assured  us  that  ;is  long 
as  it  continued  to  burn  we  need  not  fed  uneasy.  On  asking  an  ex- 
planation he  state*]  if  bad  been  blessed  by  a  holy  priest  who  was 
since  dead  and  who,  he  knew,  went  straight  to  heaven  without  having 
to  pass  through  purgatory." 

"There  is  no  doubt,  senor,  that  blessed  articles  like  medals,  candles, 
scapulars  and  holy  water  often  protect  their  possessor  from  harm, 
through  the  intervention  of  God;  for  He  is  pleased  always  at  the 
devotion  which  incites  the  faithful  to  wear  these  badges  of  His 
service  and  to  use  what  is  consecrated  by  the  church.  If  you,  senor, 
\\ere  a  powerful  lord  and  should  see  one  in  trouble  who  wore  your 
livery,  would  YOU  not  protect  him?  You  would  be  a  craven  not  to 
do  so.  How  much  quicker  would  the  good  God,  the  source  of  mercy 
and  justice,  protect  those  who  wear  these  evidences  of  their  faith?" 

"That  is  quite  true,  Father,  if  you  endow  the  great  Creator,  or 
(he  first  cause,  with  a  personality  like  ours,  and  measure  Him  by  our 
standards.  But  take  care  that,  you  do  not  disclose  a  most  vulnerable 
point  in  your  defenses,  by  such  an  assumption,  for  I  would  have  only 
to  extend  the  simile  to  show  that  there  is  no  eternal  hell,  a  locution 
which  some  of  your  saints  claim  to  have  explored  and  have  described 
minutely,  even  to  the  degrees  of  suffering,  its  dungeons,  gates  and 
modes  of  torture." 

"'Tis  true.  Si.  Teresa  saw  it  all  by  special  permission  of  (Jod. 
The  sight  nearly  froze  her  blood!  But  how,  senor,  can  the  non- 
existence  of  hell  be  shown  from  any  assumption  of  God's  personality?" 

"By  attributing  to  Him  a  personality  and  emotions  like  those 
which  control  humanity,  as  you  a  did  moment  ago.  You,  my  good 
rather,  would  not  bum  the  worst  wretch  in  Bexar  for  ten  minutes, 
and  if  you  saw  one  thus  tortured,  your  tender  heart  would  be  touched 
03^  his  anguish  and  you  would  use  all  your  power  to  arrest  the 
holocaust.  How  much  less  probable  then  it  is,  that  the  great  Creator 
of  this  magnificent  universe  who,  you  claim,  is  the  source  of  mercy 
;ind  justice,  would  mar  the  beauty  of  his  work  by  decreeing  the  estab- 
lishment of  thai;  terrible  hell,  which  your  church  proclaims,  and 
where  she  has  centered  all  the  terrors  and  horrors  that  "the  wealth  of 
human  language  can  describe.  If  your  God  is  the  source  of  mercy 
Mid  justice,  He  could  not  thus  torture  poor,  frail  humanity,  even 


138  GUY  RAYMOND. 

for  a  short  time,  much  less  would  he  gloat  over  their  punishment 
for  an  eternity." 

"Ah!  my  son,  I  am  sorry  for  you.  It  is  plain  you  ha-o  had  iio 
religious  training.  You  are  not  even  a  good  heretic.  What  a  pity! 
What  a  pity!" 

"The  good  man  rose  as  he  uttered  the  last  words  and  walked  up 
and  down  the  apartment.  Stopping  before  his  companion  he  con- 
tinued : 

"You  have  a  fine  intellect;  your  head,  your  eye,  your  singular 
proficiency  in  my  mother-tongue,  all  indicate  a  rare  genius,  that 
could  have  been 'utilized,  oh!  how  well,  in  our  glorious  priesthood. 
Could  you  feel  the  sublimity  of  our  faith;  could  you  realize  the 
grand  destiny  of  our  immortal  being,  if  we  but  keep  the  commands 
of  God  and  His  church;  if  you  could  look  back,  as  I  do,  upon  the 
concatenation  of  eminent  saints  and  martyrs,  reaching  back  to  Calvary, 
sanctifying  and  strengthening  an  infallible  church,  you  would  beg  for 
holy  orders  and  devote  your  talents  to  saving  precious  souls  from  that 
very  hell  about  which  you  are  so  skeptical." 

To  this  prediction  Guy  mentally  demurred,  coinciden tally  calling 
up  the  recollection  of  the  beautiful  face  he  had  seen  at  mass. 

"No,  my  good  Fathtr,  I  do  not  think  such  a  retrospect  would  FO 
influence  me.  I  have  read  of  some  of  those  saints  who  used  to  wear 
pebbles  in  their  shoes  as  a  self-inflicted  punishment  for  some  supposed 
sin.  While  I  admire  your  enthusiasm  and  your  sincerity  in  a  vacation 
you  so  well  fill,  I  fear  the  hard  lives  and  penances  of  the  saints  shall 
ever  deter  me  from  taking  orders,  lest  I  might,  like  them,  be  influ- 
enced either  to  asceticism  or  to  go  limping  around  the  world  on 
pebbles  " 

"You  are  perhaps  right  to  turn  our  little  tilt  into  pleasantly,  for 
there  is  little  use  to  argue,  unless  we  could  agree  upon  premises 


involving  an  admission  of  the  incarnation." 

"With  that  conceded  your  deductions  would  be  irresistible." 

It  had   grown   quite   dark   at  this   point  of  the   discussion   and 


It  had  grown  quite  dark  at  this  point  of  the  discussion  an 
simultaneously  with  Jose's  appearance  with  a  light  a  tall  young  man 
in  priestly  attire,  entered  the  apartment  from  the  hall. 

"Father  Nicolas,  this  is  Senor  Raymond  of  whom  I  spoke  to  you/ 
said  Father  Ignacio. 

Guy  advanced  to  meet  the  newcomer  and  gave  him  a  cordial  shako 
of  the  hand.  The  other  winced  under  the  pressure,  for  his  hands 
were  as  soft  and  flexible  as  those  of  a  delicate  woman.  The  elder 
priest  noticed  the  effect  of  his  guest's  hearty  grasp  and  laughed  good 
naturedly. 


(il'Y    \\.\\  MOND.  139 

"Father  Nicolas  is  not  rough  like  me,  senor.  I  do  not  suppose 
he  ever  did  any  hard  work.  My  hand  is  hard,  and  fingers  strong; 
but  as  for  my  deputy,  he  is  frail  as  a  girl." 

Guy  said  apologetically : 

"I  hope  Father  Nicolas  will  pardon  me.  I  have  a  habit  of  giving 
a  grip  when  I  shake  hands,  and  do  not  realize  how  hard  I  squeeze- 

"Do  not  think  of  it  any  more,  senor.  I  am  not  very  strong  when 
I  am  well;  but  I  have  been  sick  and  everything  seems  io  hurt  me." 

The  young  priest  spoke  this  in  not  very  excellent  Spanish,  and 
Father  Ignacio  explained  that  his  assistant  was  an  Italian  and  had 
not  been  learning  the  language  but  a  few  months. 

"You  were  well  enough  io  say   mass  this  morning." 

"Oh,  yes,  senor.     I  say  mass  every  morning." 

"Father  Nicolas  has  been  down  to  the  lower  missions,"  said  Fa,ther 
Ignacio.  "I  sent  him  on  a  hunt  for  health;  but  he  returns  as  puny 
as  before.  He  is  a  good  disciple  of  St.  Francis,  however,  and  never 
shirks  a  duty." 

"Father  Ignacio  is  a  flatterer,  Senor  Raymond." 

.lose  here  brought1  in  a  1  ray  of  chocolate  and  a  few  edibles,  and 
at  the  host's  suggestion  ihe  Irio  were  soon  discussing  the  merits  of  a 
drink  whose  aroma  had  already  filled  the  apartment. 

"Have  you  seen  Don  Juan  today?"  inquired  Father  Ignacio  of 
his  subordinate. 

"He  was  at  dinner  today  with  General  Cos,  and  I  met  him  there," 
re  tlied  Father  Nicolas. 

"Did  he  sav  anything  about  his  daughter?" 

"Not  that  I  remember." 

"Sim  left  church  this  morning  right  after  the  Pater  Noster  and 
I  imagined  she  might  have  been  unwell." 

"I  saw  a  lady  leave  at  that  time,"  said  Guy,  feigning  indifference. 

"She  was  sitting  in  front  of  you.  You  should  know  her,  Senor 
LV:\mond.  She  speaks  your  language,  having  been  educated  in  Bal- 
timore." 

"I  should  like  to  know  her  very  much.  It  has  been  long  since  I 
have  spoken  with  any  of  my  people,  and  if  she  has  been  educated  in 
the  United  States  and  speaks  my  language,  she  will  appear  like  a 
countrywoman." 

"Don  Juan  Navarro  is  very  popular  with  your  countrymen, 
seiior.  He  has  sympathized  with  the  colonists  in  all  their  collisions 
with  the  central  government  His  house  lias  been  a  resort  for  them 

and  his  elder  daughter  is  tlio  wife  of  Doctor  A ,  an  American  of 

education,  physically  {all  and  powerful  and,  like  yourself,  an  adept 
in  speaking  the  Castillian  toncrue.  Through  the  influence  of  his 


140  GUY  BAYMOND. 

American  friends  his  other  daughter,  whom  I  had  occasion  to  mention 
a  moment  ago,  was  sent  to  an  American  school.  She  has  but  recently 
returned  to  San  Antonio  and  has  evidently  ma_de  good  use  of  her 
time  at  school.  Don  Juan  is  very  fond  of  his  handsome  daughter. 
Pier  friends  find  her  considerably  Americanized  which, 'with  some 
Mexicans,  is  more  than  an  objection — something  to  be  condemned." 

"Race  prejudices  will  crop  out  and  I  know  of  no  occasion  more 
calculated  to  bring  them  to  the  front  than  when  invading  manners 
and  customs  threaten  to  obliterate  those  which  arc  time-honored  and 
cherished  by  a  people.  We  Americans  are  less  sensitive  on  this  score 
than  your  more  exclusive  race.  With  us  the  rapid  influx  of  foreign 
elements  and  the  change  of  the  borne  sphere  by  each  succeeding  gen- 
eration makes  us  in  a  manner  cosmopolitan.  Then,  in  religion  we 
have  represented,  in  more  or  less  force,  every  Christian  sect,  while  in 
Mexico  the  one  faith  has  stamped  its  i  MI  pros*  upon  the  population." 

"There!  If  Father  Nicolas  is  not  asleep/'  said  Father  Ignacio, 
as  he  saw  the  priest's  head  fall  over  on  his  chest  and  heard  his  deeper 
breathing.  "He  is  a  weakling,  Senor  Raymond.  His  mass  ancT  vespers 
have  worn  him  out.  When  I  was  his  age  I  had  already  established 
two  missions  and  never  knew  what  it  was  t-o  have,  more  than  five 
hours'  sleep  out  of  the  twenty-four,  year  in  and  year  out.  It  was  a 
mass  every  morning  and  confessions  at  any  hour  necessary.  I  never 
missed  my  evening  office  or  neglected  my  breviary,  and  when  my 
last  mission  was  being  built,  I  often  helped  to  carry  mortar  and 
tried  my  muscle  in  turning  over  large  rocks,  that  the  under  sides 
might  be  dressed.  Although  I  look  so  well  my  imprudence  has  told 
against  me.  I  have  rheumatism  in  this  hip  sometimes,  and  when  it 
has  been  aching  I  have  often  wished  for  my  dear  old  mother  to  come 
and  rub  me.  Senor  Raymond,  she  had  a  hand  to  rub !  It  would 
make  a  pain  leave  in  no  time — Bless  me!  How  Father  Nicolas 
snores !" 

When  Guy  had  gone  to  bed  he  found  it-  impossible  to  sleep. 
Thoughts  crowded  on  him  thick  and  'fast.  His  eyes  were  hot  arid 
dry,  and  the  balls,  no  matter  how  he  tried  to  give  them  the  natural 
motion  which  they  perform  just  preceding  sleep,  refused  to  induct 
him  into  the  land  of  dreams.  The  sudden  release  from  prison  in 
the  morning,  his  going  to  mass  with  Linda,  the  strange  ceremonies, 
the  earnest  sermon,  the  defiant  looks  of  the  Mexican,  rosaries,  indul- 
gences, medals,  holy  water,  and  much  else  connected  with  the  day^ 
experience  went  crowding  through  his  mind  in  strange  c-nn  fusion. 
Through  it  all  the  face  of  the  beautiful  girl,  whose  eye  had  met  his 
own  as  she  passed  to  leave  the  cathedral,  was  behind  each  subject, 
composing  the  medley,  peeping,  as  it  were,  over  its  shoulder. 


<irv  RAYMOND.  |  \  \ 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

"Will  Senor  Raymond  go  to  see  the  monte  pio  this  morning?" 

"Do  you  think  it  will  be  necessary,  Jose?" 

"One  should  look  sharply  after  his  money  these  times,  senor.  The 
country  is  restless  and  no  one  can  tell  how  long  before  this  good  town 
may  be  shook  as  by  an  earthquake." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right.  But  the  monte  pio  is  a  solid  man  and 
a  friend  of  yours.  He  would  not  be  tricky  towards  a  guest  of  the 
priest  of  San  Fernando." 

"Friendship  is  a  poor  stick  to  lean  on.  A  full  pocket  will  make 
and  hold  friends — but,  MM  cm  ply  one!  Oh,  senor!  An  empty  one!" 
and  Jose  shook  his  head. 

"You  are  a  confirmed  misanthrope,  Jose,  I  can  plainly  see;  but 
then  it  is  probably  best  that  we  go  to  see  my  banker  this  morning." 

"I  will  go  with  you,  senor,  for  I  have  unfortunately  lost  the 
paper  showing  the  amount  you  have  there,  as  well  as  the  letter  from 
Manuel  Ruiz,  informing  me  of  the  deposit.  I  have  looked  for  the 
lost  papers  everywhere,  but  'despair  of  ever  seeing  them  again." 

"That  will  not  mailer.  Your  friend  will  doubtless  do  us  justice," 
said  Guy,  somewhat  amused  at  the  annoyed  manner  of  the  other. 

"There  is  not  much  left  of  all  that  money.  Ninety  dollars — more 
than  half  gone — and  you  have  not  had  the  benefit  of  a  quartilla," 
said  Jose. 

It  was  just  after  the  breakfast  hour  on  the  morning  after  the 
Feast  of  the  Holy  Rosary  that  this  dialogue  between  Guy  and  the 
major  domo  took  place.  Guy  was  out  in  the  court  to  see  Rolla  eat 
his  break fasi  and  was  fondling1  him,  when  Jose  appeared.  Rolla  had 
hern  kept  a  prisoner  to  prevent  his  straying  off  and  getting  into 
troible  and  was  quite  impatient  with  the  restraint  after  his  long- 
sojourn  in  the  mountains  of  the  San  Saba.  He  whined  a  welcome 
as  his  master  appeared  on  this  morning  and  ceased  his  meal  at  once. 

"Poor  old  clog!  You,  at  least,  are  unselfish.  Your  appetite  gives 
to  joy  at  my  coming.  See,  Jose!  Here  is  a  friend  to  count 
on.  None  of  your  broken  sticks  here." 

"But  he  is  not  a  human,  senor.  He  does  not  know  the  power  and 
influence  of  money.  lie  lacks  reason,  and  missing  that,  knows  nothing 
of  ivrarice.  He  does  not  moralize,  senor,  and  therefore,  is  no  hypo- 
eriie.  iff.  bas  nothing  but  instinct.  Instinct  causes  him  to  know 
his  master  and  recnn-ni/r  his  dependence  on  him.  This  depen- 

10-r 


142  GUY  RAYMOND. 

dence  involves  a  supply  of  food.  Even,  therefore,,  with  a  dog,  attach- 
ment to  the  master  comes  from  a  selfish  desire  to  remain  with  the 
one  who  feeds  him." 

"But  it  is  a  known  fact  that  between  animals  the  strongest 
attachment  springs  from  mere  association.  Unlike  you,  I  believe 
in  friendship — a  pure  and  lofty  feeling  that  may  exist  between  the 
honorable  and  the  good." 

The  monte  pio  was  waiting  on  a  customer  when  the  two  entered 
his  establishment  some  little  time  after  their  conversation.  Nodding 
familiarly  to  Jose  and  casting  an  inquiring  glance  at  his  companion, 
he  turned  again  to  the  party  who  was  inspecting  some  goods  displayed 
on  the  counter.  Guy,  who  had  heard  much  of  the  place  in  which  he 
now  found  himself,  used  his  eyes  to  advantage  while  satiating  a  curios- 
ity that  had  possessed  him  for  the  last  three  days  to  view  the  contents 
and  arrangement  of  a  Mexican  pawn  shop.  The  first  place  which 
attracted  his  attention  was  the  show-case,  which  was  nicely  arranged 
with  articles  of  jewelry,  medals,  crosses,  rosaries,  beadwork,  knives 
and  various  other  trinkets.  These  were  all  absolutely  for  sale.  Guy 
thought  of  his  lost  medal.  It  was  in  this  case  that  Jose  had  seen  it, 
or  one  very  similar  to  the  parting  gift  of  Laoni.  On  shelves  in  rear 
of  the  counter  or  table,  were  ticketed  articles  of  clothing  and  other 
effects  pertaining  to  almost  every  department  of  Mexican  necessities 
or  extravagance.  There  was  plenty  of  time .  to  take  in  the  whole1 
arrangement,  examine  the  odds  and  ends  of  its  stock,  as  well  as  to 
speculate  on  the  needs  of  those  who  had  to  pled  go  their  property  for 
less  than  a  moiety  of  its  value.  Finally  the  proprietor  was  at  leisure 
and,  with  his  usual  bland  smile,  accosted  the  major  domo. 

"Amigo  mio,  this  is  Senor  Raymond."  I 

"Su   Servidor  de  V.   senor,"   said   the  monte   pio,   taking   Guy; 
proffered  hand. 

After  the  salutations  were  over  the  proprietor  remarked  thai:  he 
presumed  the  senor  wished  to  get  the  amount  to  his  credit,  and, 
without  waiting  for  a  rerly,  took  from  a  drawer  a  lot  of  silver, 
counting  it  carefully  on  the  counter. 

Guy,  having  verified  the  amount,  found  himself  the  possessor 
of  sixty-five  dollars,  it  being  the  balance  left  from  the  sale  of  his 
pony  and  saddle,  together  with  the  amount  left  by  Ruiz.  He  pressed 
Jose  to  take  ten  dollars,  who  received  it  under  protest  and  the  injunc- 
tion that  his  master  be  not  told  of  the  matter. 

"Have  you  heard  of  the  death  .of  your  accuser,  Vasqnez?"  asked 
the  monte  pio. 

"I  had  not,"  replied   Guv. 


sr  Guv's 


GUY  RAYMOND.  143 

"Nor  I,"  said  Jose. 

"What  caused  his  death?"  asked  Guy. 

"Murdered.  He  was  found  in  the  river  just  below  the  old  mill 
with  his  throat  cut  from  ear  to  ear." 

"Did  you  learn  if  money  was  found  on  his  body?" 

"No,  Jose.    Not  a  cent." 

"Then  it  was  done  for  robbery,"  said  Jose.  "He  had  a  large  sum 
of  money  the  last  time  I  saw  him." 

"Well,  his  death  will  relieve  me  of  my  parole,  and  perhaps  now  I 
will  be  allowed  to  join  my  people." 

"I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,  senor.  The  Americans  are  marching 
on  this  city  and  you  would  make  too  good  an  addition  to  their  force/ 

"But  Maverick  and  others  were  sent  out  and  surely- — 

'That  was  last  week.     When  war  has  once  begun,  the  policy  of 
lay  may  be  the  opposite  of  that  of  yesterday." 

I  hope  you  may  not  be  allowed  to  leave,  senor.  Remain  with  us. 
If  you  join  those  headstrong  men  you  will  certainly  be  shot  -vhen 
you  all  will  be  taken  prisoners.  Santa  Anna  himself  will  soon  be 
here  and  he  never  spares  a  rebel  against  his  authority.  You  speak 
our  language  like  ourselves.  Be  a  Mexican;  marry  the  pretty  Linda 
and  make  Bexar  your  home." 

"You  forget  that  Linda  is  promised  to  me,"  interrupted  the 
monte  pio. 

"But  she  will  not  have  you,  even  with'  your  money,"  retorted  Jose. 

"What  say  you,  Senor  Raymond  ?" 

"No,  Jose.  I  played  Indian  for  nearly  two  years  and  I  don't 
desire  to  masquerade  in  another  nationality.  I  have  nothing  to  be 
a  si  niiicd  of  in  my  race.  They  are  impatient  of  restraint,  liberty-loving 
hy  nature  and  detest  personal  government.  Santa  Anna  is  an  adven- 
turer, full  of  bombast,  and  if  he  fools  with  the  Texan  colonists  they 
will  take  some  of  his  conceit  out  of  him  before  the  end  of  this 
(jiiarrel.  Sensible  Mexicans  detest  him.  The  Navarros,  the  Seguins, 
r>fiievid<s  find  Ruiz  have,  as  good  as  pronounced  against  his  govern- 
ment." 

l>e fore  leaving  the  monte  pio's  Guy  questioned  him  about  the 
medal,  taking  down  the  n;ime  of  the  man  who  had  purchased  it. 
From  the  description  he  was  positive  the  medal  sold  was  Laoni's  gift 
and  mentally  concluded  that  it  was  lost  to  him,  probably  forever. 

bhey  were  crossing  Hie  pla/a  Guy  remembered  his  promise. 
mad«'  the  dav  before,  to  visit,  Linda,  and  suggested  that  Jose  accom- 
pany him  to  tiie  cared.  Tim  latter,  nothing  lothe,  consented,  and 
in  a  short,  time  <h<-v  found  themselves  at  the  door  where  paced  the 


144  GUY  EAYMOND. 

sentinel.  The  inner  door  was  open  as  no  prisoner  was  within  who 
had  the  liberty  of  the  court,  and  in  consequence  Bonito  was  not 
annoyed  by  knocking  at  the  street  door  to  gain  admittance.  The 
bench  stood  under  the  cell  window  as  Guy  had  left  it  the  afternoon 
before,  after  he  had  recorded  his  adventures.  The  sight  of  the  bench 
recalled  the  fact  of  the  writing  and  he  felt  at  once  for  the  little  book. 
It  was  nowhere  in  his  pockets.  He  was  wondering  what  had  become 
of  it  when  he  heard  Bonito's  voice  in  answer  to  Jose's  rap  on  the 
door  under  the  lantern.  The  jailer  was  calling: 

"Linda!     Linda!" 

Finally  a  faint  answer  was  heard,  and  a  moment  later  Linda 
opened  the  door  to  the  visitors,  inviting  them  in.  It  was  the  first 
time  that  either  of  the  two  men  had  entered  there.  It  opened  into 
a  hall,  with  doors  on  each  side.  Through  the  one  to  the  left  the  girl 
conducted  them,  when  they  discovered  a  comfortable  apartment, 
neatly  kept,  and  boasting  about  the  usual  appointments  of  a  Mexican 
sitting  room.  There  were  unmistakable  evidences  of  womanly  care 
in  a  degree  somewhat  above  the  social  plane  on  which  such  a  creature 
as  Bonito  should,  by  the  law  of  experience,  live,  move  and  have  his 
being.  The  two  windows  of  this  apartment  looked  into  a  small  yard, 
bounded  by  walls  of  adjoining  houses  which,  green  with  vegetation, 
disclosed  here  and  there  brilliant  patches  of  flowers.  The  sight  of 
the  latter  calling  forth  an  expression  of  surprise  from  her  guests, 
Linda  explained  that  on  this  little  garden  she  devoted  those  leisure 
moments  at  home  that  could  iiot  be  more  pleasantly  occupied. 

"I  often  wondered,  Linda,  what  pleasure  you  could  find  behind 
the  dreary  wall  that  fronts  the  court,  when  your  home  duties  came  to 
an  end." 

"My  garden  and  fancy  work  always  gave  to  me  enough  to  do, 
senor,  when  housework  was  finished.  My  father  allows  me  to  do 
whatever  I  please  after  I  have  attended  to  his  wants/' 

"And  they  are  many,"  remarked  Jose. 

"No;  he  is  very  fussy,  but,  after  all,  he  is  easy  pleased.  Fussing 
is  one  of  his  few  pleasures." 

"He  is  at  it  now,"  said  Jose.    "I  hear  him  shouting  at  some  one." 

"He  has  some  business  with  the  notary,"  said  Linda,  "They  have 
been  going  on  that  way  for  a  half  hour." 

Presently  the  front  door  opened,  when  the  subject  of  their  talk 
thrust  in  his  head. 

"For  via  de  mi  madre !  If  there  is  not  Senor  Pajarro !  And  the 
major  domo !  Come,  Jose,  I  want  a  little  help,  and  besides  I  want  you 
for  a  witness.  Come  at  once;  we  will  be  through  in  a  few  minutes." 


GUY  KAYMOND.  145 

Bonito  disappeared  and  Jose,  obedient  to  the  summons,  left  the 
room.  The  exit  of  Jose  was  quite  agreeable  to  Guy,  who  had  half 
regretted  the  want  of  foresight  in  not  coming  alone  as  he  desired, 
for  a  certain  reason,  to  see  Linda  without  a  witness. 

The  door  had  barely  closed,  when  the  girl  said,  mischieviously : 

"I  did  not  think  that  you  would  wait  until  this  morning  to  some." 

"I  must  confess,  Linda,  that  I  was  anxious  to  be  here  last  evening, 
but  did  not  know  ho\v  to  excuse  myself  to  Father  Ignacio." 

"Then  you  are  still  curious  to  know  why  I  left  the  church?" 

"No — yes — that  is,  I  was  a  little  surprised  when  I  missed  you." 

"You  must  own  that  .you  were  curious  about  somebody's  leaving. 
Perhaps  it  was  not  my  disappearance  that  interested  Senor  Eaymond, 
it  someone  else's  appearance  as  she  passed  him  by." 

"If  what  you  say  be  true,  Linda,  would  there  be  any  harm  in  the 

t?' 

"No,  senor;  no  harm/' 

"You  left  the  church— 

"I  did." 

'"You  promised   to  tell  me  why." 

"Because   the  other  lady  did." 

"You  are  friends?" 

"Si,  senor;  good  friends." 

'Ton  wished  to  see  her  on  some  particular  business." 

"Senor  Raymond  guesses  well." 

"Tell  me  what  you  have  to  tell — or — let  us  talk  about  something 
> " 

"Now  you  are  getting  serious.     I  will  find  out  your  secret.'" 
"F  am  not  serious,"  insisted   Guy,  endeavoring  to  dispd  a   blue 
that,  had  settled  on  his  face. 

'Now,  listen  and  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it,"  said  Linda,  drawiiig 
chair  closer  to  her  visitor. 

"When   I   went  to  mass   I  took  with   me  a  beautiful    rosary    io 
re  blessed  and  which  I  intended  to  give  to  a  friend.    You  saw  me 
it  up  ai1  the  blessing  of  the  rosaries.     Well,  who  should  I  see 
eave  the  church,  but  the  very  person  I  wished  to  give  it  to.    Yester- 
day was  her  birthday  and  I  did  not  wish  the  day  to  pass  without 
putting  the  present  in  her  hands.     You  know,  senor,  if  one  has  a 
nrtlulay  present  to   give  it  destroys  half  the  pleasure  to  not  give 
>n  the  very  day.     I  knew  that  I  would  have  no  time  to  see  her 
mass   as  T   had    to   return   home,  having  other  plans   for   the 
'rnoon.     So  what  could  T  do  but  follow  her  from  the  church?" 
Linda,  paused  and  looked  into  the  other's  face. 


146  GUY  EAYMOND. 

"And  you  gave  her  the  beads  ?" 

"I  gave  her  the  beads." 

"Well— 

"I've  told  you  all." 

"There  is  something  behind,  else  you  would  not  have  said  what 
you  did  yesterday  in  front  of  San  Fernando." 

"I  walked  home  with  Beatrice." 

"Beatrice !     Is  that  the  name  of  the  lady  ?" 

"Beatrice  Navarro." 

"I  was  struck  with  her  beauty." 

"She  was  impressed  with  your  appearance." 

"She  saw  me  then?" 

"As  if  you  did  not  know  it!" 

"How  so?" 

"Did  not  your  eyes  meet?" 

"She  must  have  told  you." 

"And  you  fairly  blushed  under  her  look." 

"  'Twas  she — whose  color  heightened.     I'd   swear  it  by  all  your 
saints." 

"In  whom  you  don't  believe." 

"Then  by  my  honor." 

"Then  you  both  turned  red.    "Pis  plain  to  me,  senor — love  at  first 
sight/ 

"I  am  not  in  love  with  Miss  Navarro.  She  is  very  beautiful  and 
moves  with  exceeding  grace.  Possibly  I  am  too  easily  impressed  by 
a  beautiful  woman,  seen  for  the  first  time,  and  may  have  thrown  my 
thoughts  into  my  looks  whon  I  encountered  Miss  Navarre's  glance. 
But  as  for  love — why,  Linda,  love  is  deep  rooted.  It  has  a  germ 
which  must  be  nursed  to  life  by  a  glow  that  springs  from  acquaint- 
ance and  association,  from  sympathies  that  flow  out  of  congenialities 
of  character  and  tastes.  Eeal  love  can  be  no  more  called  into  exist- 
ence in  a  moment  than  can  an  oak  arrive  at  its  giant  size  without 
being  first  nursed  to  life  by  heat  and  moisture  from  its  acoi 
prison.  No — no — Linda,  I  am  not  in  love." 

"If  you  deny  it  another  time  I  will  believe  you  are  in  love.     Bi 
senor,  I  am  really  sorry- 
Linda  heaved  a  little  sigh,  took  up  a  corner  of  her  apron  an 
began  to  twist  it. 

"What  makes  you  sorry,  Linda?" 

"That  you  eaiinol   love  Beatrice." 

"I    said,    'I    run    not    in    love." 

"Then  there  are  hopes." 


GUY  RAYMOND.  147 

"Hopes?" 

"That  you  will  love  her  on  better  acquaintance." 

"Perhaps  she  will  not  care  for  my  love." 

"But  she  will." 

"How  can  Linda  know?" 

"You  have  interested  her,  and  I  believe  that  acquaintance  will 
do  the  rest.  Then,  you  would  make  such  a  handsome  pair." 

"I — have  interested — her  ?" 

"I  told  her  of  your  life — -as  much  as  I  had  it  from  your  lips." 

"Why— Linda!" 

"Did  I  do  wrong?" 

"No— but— 

"But  what?" 

"Tell  me  all  she  said." 

"  ?Tis  strange  you  are  so  interested,  since  you  are  not  in  love!" 

"Interest  is  all — interest  begets  interest." 

"It  then  needs  not  to  be  warmed  into  life  like  love?" 

"By  no  means." 

"She  said  you — were  very  handsome  and — but  I  should  not  tell 
you  all." 

"Handsome!     She  was  blinded  by  her  interest." 

"Only  love  is  blind." 

"True — interest  is  oftener  critical." 

"Then  you  must  be  handsome;  for  as  love  grows  slowly  like  the 
on  '<•,  she  could  not  love  at  once  and  therefore  was  not  blind  through 
lovp.  I  should  hale  to  Imve  my  lover's  love  keep  pace  with  such  a 
growth,  for  wo  would  he  old  and  weak  before  our  loves  grew  strong." 

"It  was  but  a  comparison  I  made.  A  year  may  ripen  interest 
inro  love.  A  few  months  in  our  maturer  life  may  bring  many 
changes,  whilo  in  a  sapling  oak  no  great  increase  might  be  apparent 
;ifVer  years  of  growth." 

I  "You  will  not  renounce  the  germ,  senor?" 
"No,  the  germ  must  exist." 
"But,  once  started,  you  admit  the  growth  is  very  fast." 
"That  depends  on  the  amount  of  association." 
"Then  go  to  see  my  friend  tomorrow." 
Jose  and  Bonito  here  made  their  appearance,  preceded  by  a  dried- 
weazen-faced  specimen  of  humanity,  who  had  a  scroll  of  paper 
er  his  arm  and  a  huge  quill  pen  behind  his  ear. 
"Sonor  Raymondo  has  not  forgotten  the  carcel,  I  see.    It  has  been 
e  since  you  lofl.     Can't  you  manage  to  get  into  some  devil- 
Mi;if   \vc  can  grant  you  the  privilege  of  the  court?" 


148  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"For  eight  reals  a  day  ?  Ah,  Bonito !  You  want  to  fleece  me 
again." 

"It  was  your  liberality,  senor;  you  forced  it  on  me.  I  claimed 
but' seven.  This  is  the  notary,  senor.  Talk  about  fleecing!  He 
knows  the  art  to  perfection.  He  charged  me  twenty  reals  for  poking 
his  nose  into  my  room  and  fixing  up  some  papers  for  me.  I  would 
have  gladly  done  half  the  work  for  twice  the  money.  Think  of  the 
drudgery  I  do,  and  what  miserable  pay !" 

"I  am  pleased  to  know  you,  senor/7  said  the  little  man,  in  response 
to  this  queer  introduction.  "If  it  should  please  your  worship  to  have 
any  business  done  in  my  line,  I  can  he  found  in  hours  at  my  office, 
Calle  Soledad  cerca  la  esquina  de  la  plaza." 

The  notary  obsequiously  bowed   himself  out. 

"Call  on  him,  senor,  if  you  want  to  get  fleeced.  Twenty  reals  for 
a  half  hour's  time !  Es  un  puro  ladron,"  growled  Bonito  as  he  closed 
the  outer  door  with  considerable  emphasis. 

As  Guy  and  Jose  were  about  to  leave,  the  door  leading  to  the 
little  garden  opened  and  a  female  figure  entered  enveloped  in  a 
dark  rebosa.  She  hesitated  in  apparent  surprise  as  she  beheld  the 
two  men,  her  hand  still  retaining  its  hold  on  the  door  fastening  as  if 
doubtful  whether  to  advance  or  retreat.  The  party  in  the  room  had 
turned  their  attention  to  the  new  arrival  simultaneously  with  her 
entrance. 

"Buenas  dias,  Josef  a,  T  thought  yon  had  given  up  coming.  This 
is  nine  o'clock  with  two  hours  added  on,"  said  Linda,  advancing  to 
meet  the  lady. 

"I  am  late,  I  know.  1  see  you  have  company.  A  stranger?  Jose, 
of  course,  I  know." 

Jose  made  her  a  respectful  salutation. 

"Senor  Raymond,  I  present  to  you  my  friend,   Senorita  Jos( 
de  la  Torre,  a  neice  of  Father  Ignacio." 

"It  gives  me  additional  pleasure  to  meet  I  he  lady,  since  YOU  tell 
me  the  relationship  existing  between  her  and  the  croorl  father,"  said 
Guy. 

Josefa  bowed  stiffly,  while  her  countenance  assumed  a  proud 
smile  in  recognition  of  the  complimentary  allusion  to  her  uncle. 
She  was  tall  and  slender,  and  moved  with  dignity  across  the  room 
to  deposit  her  removed  wrap  upon  a  lounge.  Her  large,  black, 
spiritual  PVPF  took  in  (Iiiy  Raymond  nt  a  glance,  while  her  quick 
perception  placed  an  estimate  on  his  appearance  prior  to  debating 
in  her  mind  ilio  possible  impression  she  was  making.  Josefa's  oy 
suited  her  long,  narrow  fact'  and  well  defined  features.  She 





GUY  RAYMOND.  149 

not  ugly.  Her  face  could  be  very  attractive  in  certain  moods  of 
mental  activity,  but  its  general  expression  was  calculated  to  put  one 
on  guard.  Linda's  first  callers  soon  took  their  departure,  leaving 
her  alone  with  the  Senorita  de  la  Torre. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

The  even  temperature  of  the  first  autumnal  month  scarcely  marked 
a  change  in  the  sunny  days  and  cool,  refreshing  nights  which  came 
and  went  since  the  buds  of  springtime  first  swelled  to  repletion, 
then  burst  into  vernal  life  and  clothed  the  river  valley  in  soft, 
merging  shades  or  handsome  contrasts.  Nature  seemed  loth  to  undo 
the  work  of  months  and  the  lazy  weather  lingered  to  confirm,  by  its 
enervating  influence,  the  indolent  population  in  the  -extreme  of  leth- 
argy. Even  the  equinox  had  failed  to  lend  its  wonted  animation  to  the 
elemental  forces,  and  here  was  October  still  aping  her  summer  sister. 
June,  as  if  old  Boreas,  concealed  within  his  northern  haunts,  was 
not  merely  waiting  a  signal  to  tear  aside  the  veil  and  expose  the 
masquerade.  But  the  ides  of  I  he  dissembling  month  were  not  to 
come  and  go  in  balmy  sunshine  or  pass  their  languid  course,  per- 
fumed by  incense  from  the  lap  of  summer. 

The  norther. came  in  fitful  gusts,  raising  clouds  of  lime  dust  and 
sending  the  light  debris  of  tho  town  in  eccentric  whirls  through  the 
narrow  streets  and  across  the  plazas.  The  oxen  of  the  loaded  wood 
carts  lowered  their  tethered  heads  and  huddled  from  the  wind.  The 
donkeys  brayed  bniraih  their  piles  of  hay,  and  turned  their  tails 
towards  the  st<>nn  of  wind  and  dust.  The  teamsters  and  burro  drivers 
sworn  many  a  Spanish  oath,  as  tangled  teams  and  carts,  or  tufts  of  buy, 
flying  on  the  wings  of  tho  wind,  called  forth  an  anathema.  Men  hur- 
ried filnng  the  streets  to  the  protection  of  house  or  warmer  clothing. 
A  few  women,  who  issued  from  the  door  of  San  Fernando,  drew 
their  reho<as  closely  around  them,  hesitated  at  the  irate,  then  made 
haste  in  different  directions. 

The  wind  storm  soon  reached  a  violence  that  indicated  no  ordinary 
visitation  from  old  Boreas.  A  great  whirlwind  swept  across  the  mili- 
atrv  pla/a.  carrying  with  it  a  column  of  dust  that  mounted  many  feet 
above  the  church  tower.  In  its  course  it  struck  a  herd  of  cavalry 
-.  four  hundred  strong,  returning  from  a  graze,  jnst  as  it  entered 
the  plaza,  terrifying  the  animals  by  its  force  and  fury  and  blinding 
dii-t,  HUM]  sent  them,  in  mad  career,  through  the  square  to  the  narrow 
si  reel  ahend.  Hastening  along  with  enveloped  head,  to  ward  off  the 


150  GUY  EAYMOND. 

stifling  dust,  was  a  female  figure  whose  position  must  soon  be  in  the 
wake  of  the  stampeded  animals,  just  started  on  their  headlong  course. 
Unmindful  of  her  danger,  she  must  soon  have  perished  beneath  a  hun- 
dred unpitying  hoofs,  had  not  her  better  fate  brought  rescue  in  quick 
decision  and  stout  arms.  She  heard  the  tramp  of  hoofs,  descried  the 
danger,  and  felt  a  tight  embrace  that  bore  her  away,  with  scarce  an  in- 
terval for  thought ;  and  ere  she  could  recognize  the  agency  that  snatch- 
ed her  from  her  feet,  the  ground  beneath  her  was  trembling  under  the 
furious  onset  of  the  herd.  It  fell  to  the  lot  of  (iuy  Uaymond  to  be 
the  rescuer  of  the  woman.  He  was  returning  from  a  walk  to  the 
northern  portion  of  the  town,  in  quest  of  the  source  of  the  acequia 
that  ran  past  the  church,  when  the  storm  commenced.  He  entered  the 
plaza  from  Mores  street  and  saw  a  woman  hastening  along  the  eastern 
side.  As  they  neared  the  cathedral  wall  the  whirlwind  had'  swept  to 
the  southwest  and  frightened  the  animals.  Taking  in  her  danger  at 
a  glance,  he  unhesitatingly  risked  his  life  to  reach  and  rescue  her. 
As  has  been  related,  he  succeeded.  Having  no  time  for  thought,  he 
bore  her  to  the  corner  of  the  wall  and  pushed  her  behind  an  abutment 
constructed  to  protect  its  sharp  angle.  It  was  done  in  the  nick  of  time 
for  the  rush  had  passed  before  he  could  realize  her  safety,  or  his  escape 
form  serious  damage  occasioned  by  a  collision  with  one  of  the  horses 
that  sent  him  reeling  to  the  ground.  Recovering  himself,  as  speedily 
as  possible,  his  first  thoughts  were  of  her  whom  lie  had  rescued  from 
almost  certain  death,  and  the  same  instant  he  WHS  by  her  side.  To  his 
astonishment  she  had  not  fainted,  nor  was  apparently  much  excited, 
for  she  stood  on  tiptoe  looking  over  the  wall,  with  both  hands  on 
the  parapet. 

"I  trust  the  senora  is  not  much  unnerved  by  the  narrowness  of 
her  escape/'  said  Guy,  brushing  the  dirt  from  his  sleeve,  but  eyeing 
the  woman  curiously. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait  for  her  reply,  but  judge  of  his  astonish- 
ment when  she  quite  calmly  remarked  in  distinct  tones,  and  purest 
English,  still  looking  over  the  wall : 

"I  saw  your  hat  blow  into  the  churchyard  and  was  peeping  over 
to  see  where  it  had  lodged." 

Then  turning  to  him,  she  continued  : 

"Doutbless  sir,  I  am  indebted  to  you  for  my  life.  I  was  so 
blinded  by  the  dust  I  could  not  perceive  my  danger.  I  suppose  it 
is  in  order  now  to  learn  the  name  of  my  deliverer." 

"You  certainly  are  acquainted  with  his  national Hv,  or  you  would 
not  have  addressee!  him  in  Fjiiglish.  unless,  indeed,  my  awkward  use 
of  your  mother-tongue  announced  it." 


GUY  RAYMOND.  151 

"And  may  I  ask  how  know  you  that  I  am  not  your  countrywoman ; 
for  surely  my  English  is  as  pure  as  yours." 

"But  I  addressed  you  in  Spanish." 

"Understanding  a  language  does  not  necessarily  imply  the  speak- 
ing of  it.  For  aught  you  know  the  purity  of  your  Spanish  made 
me  hesitate  to  use  the  same  language  in  reply.  But  do  you  know  I 
am  fairly  five/ ing  in  this  cold  wind?  (Jot  your  hat,  which  I  see 
has  lodged  against  the  further  wall,  and  see  me  home.  While  on 
the  way  I  can  shower  on  you  my  thanks.  The  debate  on  our  nation- 
ality we  can  safely  postpone  to  some  more  favorable  time/' 

"An  excellent  proposal,"  said  Guy,  laughing-  and  at  the  same  time, 
placing  his  hands  on  the  wall,  he  leaped  into  the  enclosure.  Securing 
his  hat  he  went  out  the  western  gate,  where  his  companion  joined 
him. 

The  first  "bluster  of  the  storm  had  passed  with  the  disappearance 
of  the  whirlwind.  A  partial  lull  had  followed  and  then  the  steady 
blow  of  the  norther,  stronger  and  weaker  at  intervals,  drove  the  dust 
clouds  against  the  heavy  walls  and  through  the  streets,  whistling  and 
wailing  a  requiem  to  the  memory  of  the  verdure  and  sunshine  and 
the  balmy,  la/v  days  that  had  lingered  in  the  train  of  summer.  At 
the  gate  Guy  courteously  offered  his  arm,  which  was  accepted,  and 
requested  the  lady  to  act  as  guide  in  view  of  his  ignorance  of  the 
locality  of  her  home. 

During  their  conversation,  already  recorded,  Guy  had  not  been 
a bl'1  lo  get  a  good  look  at  the  face,  half  concealed  in  the  folds  of  a 
roltosa,  buj  \\-lien  the  firs!  English  words  fell  from  her  lips  he  thought 
of  the  girl  who  Father  Tjjnaeio  had  said  could  speak  his  language. 
an<!  had  been  educated  in  Baltimore. 

While  his  admiral  ion  was  excited  at  her  excellent  nerves,  be, 
remembered  the  glances  exchanged  at  mass,  and  when  she  asked  bis 
(scort  to  her  home,  the  thought  of  Linda's  rehearsal  of  some  of  his 
adventures  to  her,  who,  beyond  doubt,  was  now  vis-a-vis  to  him, 
complacently  pointing  him  to  his  hat,  after  escaping  not  five  minutes 
before  from  the  very  jaws  of  death. 

Proceeding  on  their  way  a  short  distance,  she  broke  the  silence: 

"Your  daring  act  has  laid  me  under  an  obligation,  and  my  father 
under  a  much  greater  one,  for  he  has  an  idea  that  I  am  a  valuable 
pieeo  of  property.  As  you  forgot  to  tell  me  your-  name,  may  I 
beg  lo  know  to  whom  we  owe  the  debt?" 

"I  more  than  susped  that  rnv  name  is  as  familiar  to  you  as  yours 
has  become  to  me." 


152  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"Grant  that  your  suspicions  have  color  or  substance,,  an  exchange 
of  names  will  lend  a  finish  to  our  rather  sudden  introduction." 

"Guy  Baymond,  then,,  at  your  service,"  he  said,  bending  his  head 
low  to  catch  her  eye,  then  added : 

"He  is  proud  in  having  been  able  to  rescue  from  injury  so  valuable 
a  piece  of  property  as  Beatrice  Navarro." 

"I  see  it  all  now.  My  English  betrayed  me.  He  who  told  you 
of  me  gave  you  the  secret  of  my  education.  Is  it  not  so,  Mr. 
Baymond  ?" 

"You  are  quite  right;  but  I  should  have  found  you  out  by  this 
time  in  spite  of  that  rebosa." 

"You  were  at  high  mass?" 

"On  Sunday  last." 

"And  have  seen  Linda?" 

"Yes." 

"She  is  a  simple,  good  girl.  Probably  I  joked  a  little  too  freely 
with  her,  when  she  came  to  give  me  my  birthday  present." 

"Why  so?" 

"I  then  did  not  expect  to  ever  know  you." 

"Well?"     . 

"But  those  terrible  mustangs  introduced  us  without  ceremony. 
What  did  Linda  say?" 

"That  I  should  go  to  see  you  the  next  day." 

"The  little  goose!" 

"Why  a  goose?" 

"You  could  have  called  without  advice.     What  else?" 

"Nothing  more  than  a  little  innocent  badgering,  that  it  will  be 
better  not  to  mention,  even  could  I  recall  a  portion1.  I  remember 
she  gave  me  good  advice,  and  pleasant  to  follow." 

"Here  is  our  home.  Come  in,  Mr.  Baymond.  My  father  will  not 
be  home  'til  late.  When  he  hears  of  my  escape  he  will  hunt  you  up 
and  insist  on  adopting  you  at  once.  He  dearly  loves  me  because  I  am 
so  like  my  mother." 

"You  will  excuse  me  for  not  going  in.  My  torn  sleeve  and  soiled 
coat  are  but  outward  signs  of  an  inward  hurt.  It  is  nothing  serious, 
but  the  smarting  indicates  that  speedy  attention  will  prevent  an 
extended  soreness." 

"How  thoughtless  of  me!  I  have  not  inquired  if  you  were  hurt. 
All  my  anxiety  was  about  your  hat,  that  went  sailing-  over  into  the 
churchyard.  You  must  call  on  us,  Mr.  Baymond.  just  as  soon  as 
your  wound  will  permit.  My  father  and  sister  will  be  impatient 
until  they  see  you." 


GUY  KAYMOND.  153 

"Then  you  will  see  me  soon.     Good-bye." 

"Good-bye." 

Beatrice  left  the  door  ajar  and  peeped  through  the  opening  to 
follow  with  her  eyes  the  retreating  form  of  her  new  acquaintance. 

"Poor  fellow!  I  did  not  even  ask  him  if  he  was  hurt.  That 
detestable  Josef  a!  She  talked  of  nothing  but  'Senor  Raymond'  this 
afternoon.  Fd  have  bet  on  her  getting  acquainted  with  him  first. 
She  set  her  cap  for  him.  She  went  to  Linda's  for  no  other  purpose 
than  to  lay  siege  to  the  handsome  American.  Oh !  Those  dear  old 
mustangs.  Whew!  I  just  begin  to  feel  the  cold." 

As  she  said  this  she  closed  the  door  and  turning  met  her  sister. 

"Who  were  you  talking  to,  Beatrice  ?" 

"Oh,  Jane,  such  an  adventure!" 

"It  is  nothing  for  you  to  have  adventures." 

"But  this  particular  one  is  not  a  common  affair." 

"Well,  let  us  have  it.  But  first  come  into  the  sitting  room,  where 
I  have  built  a  fire.  You  are  shivering  now." 

"The  warmth  of  the  house  makes  me  realize  how  cold  it  is 
outside,"  said  Beatrice,  following  her  sister  to  the  fire. 

"I  was  so  excited  I  scarcely  felt  the  wind.  Oh,  Jane!  I  have 
just  missed  being  killed." 

"Killed?" 

"Trampled  to  death." 

"Explain." 

"Those  miserable  cavalry  horses.  You  know  they  passed  here 
the  other  day,  going  out  to  graze.  Well,  as  I  was  nearing  the 
cathedral  on  my  way  home  from  Josef a's,  this  herd,  for  some  cause, 
became  frightened  and  came  sweeping  across  the  plaza,  right  in  my 
direction,  and  in  another  moment  I  would  have  been  killed,  but  for 
the  strong  arms  of  my  rescuer,  who  bore  me  from  the  street  none 
too  soon." 

"Did  you  learn  the  name  of  your  rescuer?" 

"Yes.  You  heard  me  joking  with  Linda  about  an  American 
who  was  at  mass?" 

"Was  it  he?" 

"The  same — Senor  Eaymond.  But  Jane — how  strong!  I  was 
like  a  child  in  his  grasp,  and  you  know  I  am  no  feather." 

"Had  he  heard  of  you  before?" 

"I  believe  he  asked  if  my  name  was  not  Navarro — or  said  he 
knew  it  was." 

"Did  you  see  Josef  a?" 


154  GUY  "RAYMOND. 

"I  stayed  there  for  an  hour  and  was  about  to  leave  when  the 
norther  came.  She  is  an  artful  piece,  and  so  conceited." 

After  expressing  this  decided  opinion  of  Josefa,  Beatrice  leaned 
her  head  upon  her  palm  and  gazed  into  the  fire  reflectively.  Her 
sister  sat  opposite,  engaged  in  sewing,  by  a  small  table  on  which 
her  work  was  spread.  Now  and  then  she  would  glance  at  Beatrice  to 
make  some  remark  or  to  scrutinize  her  half  averted  face.  There 
was  little  resemblance  between  the  Navarro  sisters.  Beatrice  was 
fair,  though  not  a  blonde.  Hers  was  the  Castillian  complexion, 
coupled  with  the  dark  hair  and  lustrous  eyes  indicating  Moorish 
blood  that  had  crept  in  after  Granada  had  succumbed  to  Spanish 
arms  and  Christian  antipathy  had  become  more  tolerant  from  abso- 
lute conquest.  As  she  sat  looking  into  the  blaze  upon  the  hearth, 
with  the  flush  of  health  aii^iiiciU'cd  by  the  excitement  that  gleamed 
from  her  wondrous  eyes,  she  made  a  lovely  picture.  Unlike  her 
sister,  her  features  were  small  and  regular,  her  rounded  chin  suffi- 
ciently advanced  to  give  character  and  poise  to  her  face.  When  at 
rest  the  latter  wore  a  dreamy  beauty  that  suggested  thoughts  of  a 
Madonna.  Her  height  was  above  the  medium,  her  figure  full  and 
shapely,  and  her  carriage  was  of  that  graceful,  easy  nature  so  common 
to  her  countrywomen. 

Her  sister  Jane  had  been  married  for  about  two  years  to  Doctor 

A ,  an  American  surgeon  from  Kentucky,  who  had  emigrated  to 

Texas  to  seek  his  fortune.     Her  face  was  oval  and  handsome,  her 
complexion  dark,  but  her  hair  and  eyes  were  lighter  than  her  sister'1! 
She  resembled  her  father;  Beatrice  her  dead  mother. 

"Do  you  know,  Jane,  I  nearly  hate  Josefa?"  said  Beatrice,  lookin 
up  from  the  fire. 

"You  two  are  always  falling  out.    What  is  the  matter  now?" 

"Matter!     It  is  her  conceit  which  disgusts  me.     She  thinks 
every  man  who  looks  at  her  is  in  love  with  her." 

"Has  Senor  Raymond  been  looking  at  Josef  a?" 

"Did  I  say  he  had?     Jane — you — are — stupid." 

"Not  so  stupid  as  to  be  blinded  by  it." 


CHAPTER  XXTTT. 

After  Guy  left  Beatrice  he  hurried  to  his  room  with  the  intenl 
to  attend  to  his  arm,  which  was  smarting  very  unpleasantly.  Evening 
was  near  at  hand  and  with  the  departing  rays  of  the  sun  the  tem- 
perature was  steadily  lowering,  making  warm  quarters  pleasant  to 


: 


GUY  EAYMOND.  155 

contemplate.  His  mind  was  full  of  his  adventure,  or  rather  over- 
flowing with  thoughts  of  his  heroine.  Her  beauty  had  attracted  him. 
The  rescue,  the  interchange  of  words,  and  the  walk  to  her  home  had 
woven  a  charming  spell  around  him.  He  was  so  occupied  by  his 
thoughts  that  he  came  in  collision  with  Jose  in  the  hall. 

"Ah,  senor!  Is  it  you?  Father  Ignacio  was  fearful  you  had 
gotten  in  another  scrape,  you  had  been  missing  so  long/' 

"Not  a  scrape  this  time,  Jose;  but  really  a  dangerous,  though 
pleasant  adventure/'  said  Guy,  laughing. 

"Walk  in  that  room.  There  is  a  fire  in  there  and  the  father  is 
waiting  for  you." 

Guy  found  his  host  sitting  by  a  bright  fire,  his  face  cheerful  and 
ruddy,  while  he  vigorously  used  a  poker  to  readjust  the  burning  fagots 
of  mesquite.  He  turned  as  he  heard  the  door  open. 

"Ah,  you  young  runaway !  Here  it  is  nearly  .night,  with  a  pros- 
pective freeze,  and  you  not  to  be  found,  high  or  low.  We  were 
about  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  you  had  been  blown  away,  or 
had  gone  off  in  the  whirl  wind  which  swept  the  plaza.  I  never  saw 
such  confusion  among  the  caretas  and  burros." 

"Well,  my  good  leather,  I  came  very  near  meeting  with  an 
accident  from  the,  stampede  of  the  herd  of  cavalry  horses.  I  was 
knocked  down  and  my  arm  considerably  skinned  by  the  fall." 

"And  where  have  you  been  ever  since?" 

"I  walked  home  with  a  young  lady  who  had  been  in  some  danger 
from  the  same  source." 

"And  you  accompanied  her  to  afford  protection  from  a  second 
herd  of  horses?" 

"Not  exactly  from  horses,  but  from  any  danger,  as  she  must 
have  been  somewhat  frightened,  and  I  concluded  company  would 
reassure  her." 

"And  pray,  who  was  the  lady?" 

"Miss  Navarre." 

"Senorita  Navarro !" 

I  "The  young  lady  who  you  said  spoke  English." 
"I    know — I  know — Beatrice  is  a  fine  girl." 

His  last  words  were  said  more  a^ide  than  they  were  addressed 
to  (luy,  but  the  latter  hearing  them,  mental  I  \  endorsed  what  the 
father  assented. 

The  priest  poked  the  fire  a  while  in  a  meditative  manner,  then 
suddenly  turning  to  the  other,  asked: 

"Did  you  hear  of  the  skirmish  at  the  powder  house?" 
"Skirmish!     Who  wen;  the  skirmishers  ?     I   had  not  heard  it." 


156  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"The  guard  of  eight  men  posted  at  the  powder  house  were  relieved 
at  noon  today,  and  at  four  o'clock  the  officer  of  the  day  visited  the 
post  and  discovered  that  a  fight  had  occurred.  Five  of  the  soldiers 
lay  dead  at  the  door  and  the  others  are  supposed  to  be  prisoners,  as 
they  were  not  to  be  found." 

"Is  it  positive  who  were  the  attacking  party?" 

"The  American  colonists.     Who  else?" 

"I  had  no  idea  the  ball  would  open  so  soon." 

"Scouts  report  that  a  large  force  is  concentrating  on  the  river 
below  here,  near  the  mission  of  Eispada." 

"Then  Stephen  F.  Austin  must  be  in  command,  for  Ruiz  said 
to  Vasquez  that  Austin  was  encamped  on  the  Cibolo,"  said  Guy,  in 
a  tone  indicating  that  he  was  not  addressing  his  companion. 

"Ruiz,  did  you  say  ?"  asked  the  priest. 

"Manuel  Ruiz.     He  who  befriended  me  just  before  my  arrest." 

"You  would  be  in  less  trouble,  only  for  his  friendship.  You 
might  have  been  relieved  from  your  parole,  but  for  your  connection 
with  Ruiz." 

"How?" 

"Ruiz  is  suspected  of  being  the  murderer  of  Vasquez." 

"And  I ?" 

"And  you  are  a  possible  accessory." 

"And  in  confinement?" 

"Else  you  might  have  been  a  principal." 

"Perhaps  my  being  an  American  militates  against  me.  After  this 
collision  at  the  powder  house  I  shall  be  in  bad  odor  here." 

"No  doubt,  you  will  draw  more  attention  in  public,  but  remain 
quiet  and  you  are  in  no  danger." 

When  Guy  retired  to  his  room  he  went  to  bed,  but  sleep  was  out 
of  the  question.  The  news  of  the  bloodshed  between  the  revolutionists 
and  the  Mexican  guard  opened  up  a  new  subject  for  thought.  He  pic- 
tured the  camp  of  his  countrymen,  so  near  the  city,  preparing  for 
attack,  and  dwelt  upon  his  own  position,,  under  parole,  not  to  attempt 
to  escape  from  the  town  limits.  He  was  in  honor  bound  to  observe 
it  while  he  accepted  his  limited  liberty.  He  could  only  plan  and  exe- 
cute an  escape  by  surrender  and  reincarceration,  depending  on  his 
own  ingenuity  and  the  cupidity  of  his  guard.  He  would  consider  the 
matter  deliberately  befor  acting.  Meantime  he  could  get  better  ac- 
quainted with  Beatrice  and  call  occasionally  at  the  carcel.  It  would 
be  out  of  the  question  to  even  -think  of  going  back  to  confinement  or 
to  attempt  an  escape  without  making  Beatrice  his  friend.  His  friend? 
Yes,  his  very  dear  friend.  He  even  thought  of  Josef;i,  \\hom  he  h:id 


(ilJV    RAYMOND. 

seen  but  a  few  minutes  in  Linda's  sitting-room.  He  would  go  to  see 
Josefa— that  strange,  tall,  graceful  girl  with  the  big  black  eyes  that 
fairly  spoke  to  you,  and  who  looked  so  decidedly  Spanish.  Josefa 
was  not  at  all  en  regie.  She  was  a  girl  to  make  a  lasting  impression, 

but — Beatrice — Beatrice — was • 

Guy  fell  into  a  restless  slumber. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

^  Guy  awoke  the  next  morning  lie  did  not  feel  that  freshness 

which  one  should  experience  after  a  good  night's  sleep  with  the  tem- 
perature at  freezing  point.  His  rest  had  been  of  that  character  which 
is  constantly  broken  through  by  mental  activities  that  follow  into  the 
land  of  dreams  and,  shorn  of  the  guiding  element  of  discriminating 
reason,  make  practicable  all  sorts  of  absurdities  and  impossibilities. 
He  dreamed  that  he  saw  Beatrice  drinking  from  the  basin  his  hands 
had  chiseled  into  the  rock.  She  espied  him  approaching  and  beckoned 
him  to  come  quickly.  In  her  hand  she  held  the  cup  from  which  she 
had  been  drinking,  and  it  shono  like  silver.  He  mended  his  pace, 
but  despite  his  efforts  to  reach  her,  the  spring  receded  further  and 
further.  He  became  impatient,  but  this  provoked  only  her  smile. 
Finally  she  threw  down  the  vessel,  which  rolled  towards  him,  and 
proved  to  be  a  human  skull.  In  dismay  he  looked  up  for  explanation 
and  saw  in  lieu  of  the  gurgling  fountain  the  mouth  of  the  mine  and 
the  dark,  deep  shaft  before  him.  Amazed  at  the  transition  he  turned 
to  retreat,  when  he  was  arrested  by  I  be  appearance  of  Laoni,  who  stood 
wii:h  folded  arm  proudly  and  sadly  regarding  him. 

"Laoni !     Is  it  you !"  escaped  his  lips. 

She  was  silent. 

'I  thought  it  was — "  he  continued,  hesitatingly. 

"Speak  her  name.     El  Bravo  is  ashamed  of  it.  ?" 

"Oh,  Laoni!"  he  expostulated. 

"The  pretty  face  of  the  IVIexirnn  has  made  him  forget  her  who 
waited  in  the  mountains." 

As  Laoni  said  this  she  ira\e  a  signal,  and  several  Indians  sprang 
from  concealment,  and  seizing  him,  bore  him  to  the  opening  of  the 
shaft  and  threw  him  into  the  dark  abyss.  Instead  of  being  dashed 
to  pieces  by  his  fall,  he  found  himself  transported  to  a  beautiful 
valley,  lined  with  the  while  touts  of  an  annv.  On  a  nearer  approach 
this  proved  to  be  the  camp  of  the  Texans,  who  seemed  to  be  greatly 
excited  over  a  prisoner,  whom  they  were  preparing  to  burn,  lie 

ll-r 


158  GUY  EAYMOND. 

asked  a  soldier  near  him  why  they  were  going  to  resort  to  a  method 
of  execution  so  barbarous,  when  he  was  informed  that  the  fellow  had 
murdered  Vasquez,  a  bearer  of  funds  for  the  army.  On  this  he  looked 
on  thq  prisoner  more  attentively  and  discovered  that  he  was  Manuel 
Euiz.  He  was  about  to  intercede  for  him  when  a  female,  whom  he 
recognized  as  Josefa  de  la  Torre,  ran  frantically  through  the  crowd 
and,  throwing  he  arms  around  the  condemned,  begged  for  his  life. 
This  much  of  his  dream  Guy  found  himself  able  to  unravel,  as  he  lay 
in  bed  after  awaking,  and  mused  for  some  minutes  on  the  philosophy 
of  dreams,  and  the  subtle  influence  they  wielded  over  weak  and 
ignorant  minds. 

Notwithstanding,  his  dream  impressed  him  so  far  as  to  put  in 
motion  an  examination  of  his  conscience. 

Did  he  love  Beatrice?  He  remembered  his  argument  with  Linda 
to  disprove  a  sudden  kindling  of  the  tender  passion.  True,  there 
could  be  and  doubtless  were  exceptions  to  this  theory.  Possibly  when 
love  is  all  passion,  more  of  a  superficial  than  a  deep-rooted  sentiment, 
it  was  the  offspring  of  sudden  emotion,  a  natural  selection  springing 
from  an  undefinable  magnetism.  Dreams  were  the  result  of  mental 
states,  impressions  carried  into  the  domain  of  sleep.  Had  his  mind 
ever  entertained  the  idea  of  Laoni's  displeasure  should  he  love  the 
beautiful  Mexican?  He  answered,  no.  But,  he  reflected,  that  the 
Indian  girl,  so  pure,  so  brave,  so  unselfish,  so  superior  to  thousands 
of  her  sex  who  were  included  in  a  pretentious  civilization,  loved  him 
with  a  wealth  of  love  that  could  never  have  been  purchased,  that  was 
given  to  him  as  nature  bestows  her  offerings— without  recompense, 
Must  he  give  nothing  in  return  for  all  this?  His  gratitude?  She 
had  that.  He  had  offered  to  fly  with  her  from  her  own  people  and 
work  for  her  happiness.  But  Walumpta  was  not  dead,  and  duty 
forbade  her  acceptance  of  that  which  implied  no  adequate  requital  for 
her  affection.  He  could  not  marry  a  Lipan.  He  could  not  afford  to 
transmit  his  blood  to  his  posterity  weighted  by  the  odium  of  such  a 
union.  He  consoled  himself  by  this  reflection  of  what  he  owed  to  the 
future,  and  cringed  a  little  under  the  momentary  reflection  that, 
possibly,  he  might  never  meet  again  the  girl  who  saved  him  from  the 
stake,  and  that  fact  would  settle  the  matter. 

Guy  was  not  mean ;  he  was  human.  His  last  thought  had  scarcely 
found  birth  before  he  discarded  it,  and  resolved,  if  opportunity  ever 
offered,  he  would  yet  show  his  gratitude  to  1h<-  Indian  maiden.  Hav- 
ing comfortably  disposed  of  this  mailer,  his  thoughts  at  once  reverted 
to  Beatrice,  and  were  occupied  by  her  during  the  progress  of  his 
toilet,  which  he  arose  to  make. 


GUY  RAYMOND.  159 

The  brush  with  the  revolutionists  at  the  powder  house  had  thrown 
the  garrison  into  excitement.  The  people  of  the  town  were  in  groups 
discussing  the  incident  on  the  next  morning  and  watching  the  move- 
ments of  troops  from  one  point  to  another.  Officers  were  riding 
back  and  forth  from  headquarters  to  barracks  and  to  the  advanced 
posts  looking  to  the  east  and  south.  A  cordon  of  Mexican  cavalry 
had  been  extended  as  far  as  it  was  deemed  prudent  to  anticipate  any 
contemplated  surprise. 

As  Guy  issued  from  the  house  on  the  morning  in  question,  after 
enjoying  a  late  breakfast  with  his  host  and  patron,  who  had  been  de- 
layed at  San  Fernando.,  at  the  conclusion  of  his  mass,  he  witnessed 
the  departure  of  two  hundred  cavalry  from  the  pi  a/a  through  Carcel 
street  to  the  lord.  He  halted  to  inspect  thorn  and  could  not  restrain 
an  opinion  of  the  weakness  of  such  a  troop  before  an  equal  force  of  (lie 
men  under  Austin.  A  knot  of  Mexican  men  of  the  lowest  order  stood 
near  him,  in  dirty,  tattered  blankets,  conversing  in  their  nasal  tones 
about  the  display.  To  one  of  these  he  propounded  the  question  : 

"Where  are  these  soldiers  going??" 

"Not  far  down  the  river,  senor,  to  make  prisoners  of  some  rebels." 

Guy,  following  on  the  heels  of  the  troops,  walked  to  Carcel  stn-ri, 
musing  on  the  fellouV  answer  and  menially  concluding  that  these 
rebels  would  probably  refuse  to  he  taken.  He,  'ere  long,  arrived  at 
the  carcel,  and  encountered  Bonito  in  the  court. 

"Ah,  pajarro  mio  !     The  very  one  I  was  thinking  about." 

"''Is  that  true?  Bonito,  you  must  have  me  often  in  your  thovghts. 
You  gave  me  the  same  greeting  the  last  time  1  was  here." 

•''That  may  be,  senor.  But  truly,  I  had  a  bad  dream  of  you  hist 
night  and  it  bodes  you  no  good." 

"Dreams  are  but  dreams,  Bonito,  and  amount  to  nothing." 

"With  some,  yes;  but  with  me  they  always  have  a  meaning." 

"Tf.it  bodes  me  ill  luck,  then  out  with  it,  amigo  mio.  Let  me 
know  my  fate  at  once,"  said  Guy,  smiling. 

"The  upshot  of  it  is,  that  you  are  1o  he  again  a  prisoner,  and  the 
mischief  of  it  is  T  cannot  tell  if  I  am  to  he  your  jailor.  If  1  am  not, 
it  will  be  the  worse  for  Senor  Raymomlo.  Not  all  are  like  myself 
who  have  the  care  of  prisoners.  You  .remember,  I  once  gave  you 
liberty  and  many  privileges.  Would  you  want  the  liberty  of  the  court 
again,  senor?  You  remember  you/  paid  me  a  trifle,  just  what  you 
pleased,  an, |  it  added  a  little  to  the  beggarly  pay  I  receive  for  my 
pains." 

"It  will  be  well  to  await  arrest  before  we  talk  of  privileges  and 
terms.  1  have  no  faith  in  your  interpretation  of  your  nightmare." 


160  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"It  is  well,  'but  take  Bonito's  advice  and  lay  aside  a  few  pesos  for 
prison  use.  It  will  not  hurt,  senor,  and  you  have  drawn  oil  your 
money/' 

"You  know  too  much,  Bonito.' 
"One  has  to  keep  posted;  it  pays." 

"To  cut  the  matter  short,  I  will  save  enough  to  meet  all  future 
wants,  and  if  it  is  my  luck  to  be  again  a  prisoner  I  want  no  better 
jailor  than  Bonito.  Is  Linda  in  the  house ?'' 

"Si,  senor,  in  the  sitting-room.     But  stay;  you  have  heard  about 
the  affair  at  the  powder  house?" 
"I  did." 

"Yours  is  a  plucky  race,  senor." 

"I  am  glad  you  think  so." 

Bonito  having  nodded  permission,  Guy  directed  his  ^teps  to  the 
sitting-room,  where  he  had  before  interviewed  Linda.  He  did  not 
find  her  alone.  To  greet  his  entrance  the  great,  dark  eyes  of  Josefa 
were  raised  in  conjunction  with  those  of  Linda.  She  rose- gracefully 
from  a  half  stoop  over  the  latter's  shoulder,  which  position  she  had 
assumed  in  the  inspection  of  some  fancy  work  which  the  deft  -lands 
of  the  jailer's  daughter  were  manipulating,  and  returned  his  greeting 
with  a  smile  that  mutely  alluded  to  the  pleasure  of  their  previous 
meeting.  Linda  expressed  her  pleasure  at  seeing  him  in  a  manner  in 
keeping  with  their  now  well  cemented  friendship,  and  motioned  him 
to  a  seat. 

"Linda,  you  are  a  capital  housekeeper.  Around  you  everything 
looks  cheerful.  I  cannot  decide  if  the  open  windows  and  view  of  your 
garden  had  a  more  pleasing  effect  than  this  bright  fire  and  the  com- 
fortable temperature." 

"Thanks,  senor,  for  the  compliment.  Maybe  it  is  Josefa's  presence 
that  lends  a  charm  to  the  room." 

"Certainly  that  helps  no  little  to  make  it  pleasant  here,"  :*aid 
Guy,  giving  an  inclination  to  his  head,  as  he  met  the  glance  of  Linda's 
visitor. 

"Have  you  seen  no  pleasanter  room  than  this;  none  where  every 
object  was  invested  with  interest  from  association  with  the  attractions 
of  its  mistress?"  asked  Josefa 

"I  know  of  no  such  apartment,"  said  Guy. 

"We  have  heard  of  your  adventure,"  said  Linda,  mischeviously. 

"Adventure!" 

"Did  you  not  rescue  a  senorita  ?" 

"And  accompany  her  home  afterwards?"  put  in  Josefa. 

"Oh !  I  begin  to  undertstand  your  drift,"  said  Guy ;  "news 
travels  fast  in  San  Antonio." 


GUY  RAYMOND.  161 

"But  we  heard  it  from  a  witness." 

"  "Tis  all  true,  young  ladies.  I  admit  it.  I  had  the  good  fortune 
to  l»o  of  service  in  time  of  danger;  saved  the  young  lady;  escorted 
her  home;  did  not  enter  her  house  and  have  not  seen  her  since." 

"Your  whole  experience  in  that  direction  has  been  exceedingly 
romantic/1  said  Josef  a. 

"How  so?" 

"Tin-  first  .impression  made  at  mass;  communication  through  a 
thin!  party;  then  an  adventure  in  which  her  life  is  saved  and  a  tete- 
a-tete  to  the  lady's  home." 

"I  grant  you  are  right,  except  in  your  choice  of  terms.  The  term 
—impression — is  vague  and  a  tete-a-tete  is  out  of  the  question.  A 
tete-a-tete  here  with  Linda  in  a  cozy  apartment  would  be  practicable 
and  agreeable;  but  with  the  Senorita  Navarro  or  the  Senorita  de  la 
Torre,  on  a  limited  acquaintance  and  in  the  public  street  would  be  an 
11 11  warranted  presumption." 

"Mexican  gentlemen  are  not  so  punctilious." 

"Senor  Raymond  believes  that  love  is  slow  to  kindle  into  a  flame/' 
ad  (let  I  Linda. 

"A  creed  of  the  Saxon  race.     We  Latins  have  more  fire." 

"And  less  endurance — you  soon  burn  out." 

"\Ye  are  more  impulsive." 

"And  perhaps  more  generous,  but  not  so  practical  as  Americans. 
Kven  in  religion  the  Latins  require  something  grand  and  mysterious, 
vith  solemn  rites  and  showy  ceremonies.  What  success  would  a 
Qua  \er,  or  even  a  Protestant  missionary  have  in  Mexico?  The  people 
won '(I  never  give  up  the  pastores,  beads,  scapulars  and  holy  water  for 
a  plain  unattractive  religion." 

'•'Remove  the  load  of  ignorance,  senor,  and  your  argument  would 
fall  to  the  ground.  Many  educated  Mexicans  are  infidels.  My  uncle 
is  the  pricsi  of  San  Fernando  and  I  am  not  a  Catholic  in  belief." 

"You  not  a  Catholic!"  said  Guy,  surprised. 

"I  have  been  cured  for  a  long  time." 

"Cured?" 

"I  said  cured,  because  if  such  credulity  as  faith  requires  springs 
not  from  ignorance  or  a  diseased  mind,  it  certainly  arises  from  in- 
fatuation." 

"And  your  uncle,  wilh  his  devotion  to  his  church;  what  a  thorn 
in  bis  side  your  disaffeclion  from  the  faith  must  be.  While  I  honor 
your  independence  of  though  1,  I  have  the  highest  respect  for  his  sin- 
cerity of  belief/' 

''My  uncle  is  so  bigoted." 
ive  it  a  softer  name." 


162  GUY  EAYMOND. 

"I  cannot.  He  believes  that  my]  father  is  in  everlasting  torment 
because  he  was  once  a  Mason." 

"Let  him  believe  it.  You  who>  discredit  the  existence  of  so  foul 
a  blot  on  this  fair  creation  know  that  it  is  not  true." 

"Senor  Raymond,  I  will  not  let  you  come  here  if  you  abuse  my 
religion.  I  am  going  to  get  Father  Ignacio  to  give  you  a  talking." 

"Abuse  it!     I  was  defending  those  who  truly  believe." 

"It  was  I,  Linda.  IM1  bear  all  the  blame.  My  uncle  and  myself 
have  had  many  a  hard  fought  battle.  He  once  tried  to  exorcise  me, 
thinking  I  was  possessed." 

"How  did  he  go  about  it?  Is  there  a  stereotyped  incantation  to 
be  used  on  such  occasions?" 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Josol'a;  "I'll  not  tell  you.  Linda,  I  must  bo 
going.  '  Mother  is  afraid  for  me  to  be  out  long  since  the  stampede." 

"Perhaps  I  had  bettor  soo  you  home  for  protection,"  said  Guy. 

"It  is  not  on  account  of  my  tender  years  that  her  anxiety  is 
aroused.  She.  has  boon  ill,  and  her  nerves  are  weak." 

Linda  showed  them  out  through  the  garden.  Many  of  her  plants 
were  covered  to  ward  off  the  cold,  but  the  high  walls  usually  afforded 
sufficient  protection  for  the  more  hardy. 

The  home  of  Josefa  and  her  mother  was  not  distant  from  the 
carcel.  Across  tho  plaza  and  a  turn  up  North  Flores  street  brought 
them  to  the  place. 

Guy  entered  and  was  introduced  to  the  mother.  A  glance  at  the 
two  would  have  demonstrated  to  a  less  keen  observer  that  there  was  a 
radical  difference  mentally  as  well  as  physically  between  mother  and 
daughter.  The  latter  showed  intellect  and  indomitable  will  that  gave 
a  hard  cast  to  her  expression  on  occasions  when  she  did  not  purposely 
control  it 

"Have  you  heard  anything  lately  of  Manuel  Euiz?"  she  asked,  as 
Guy  was  about  to  take  leave. 

"Not  since  he  left  the  city,"  he  replied. 

"I  presume  he  writes  to  the  Senorita  Navarro." 

"To  Beatrice?     To  Beatrice  Navarro?" 

"She  is  the  only  senorita  here  of  that  name.  I  suppose  you  know 
she  is  engaged  to  Ruiz." 

"Engaged  to  Ruiz !" 

"Si  senor ;  to  Manuel  Ruiz." 

"I  was  not  aware  of  it." 

"No,  you  scarcely  know  the  senoritn,  only  met  her  once.  lm\e  never 
boon    in    her  house.      It    is  not  to  ho  supposed  you   know   much   al 
her  privnle  affairs." 

"True — but  Manuel — did  not — yet  I  never  met  him  but  once.' 


UU     1V11UU 

lever 

= 


GUY  FiAYMoxo.  l.(»3 


"I  hope  it  is  not  having  n  depressing  effect  on  Senor  IJa\  nmnrV 

"On  me!     How  could  it?" 

"True;  Americans  are  practical,  not  impulsive;  do  not  fall  in  love 
except  by  slow  degrees.  Senorita  Navarre's  engagement  cannot  affect 
you,  yet  you  appeared  annoyed  at  first." 

"Not  from  what  you  said.  In  fact,  my  manner  belied  my  feelings; 
it  must,  for  I  was  not  annoyed  at.  all." 

"You  were  possibly  condemning  Euiz  for  not  telling  you  of  his 
love." 

"No,  I  said  I  only  met  him  once,  but  he  befriended  me  and  his 
act  made  him  seem  like  a  freind  of  years.  Was  it  Beat  —  the  Senorita 
Navarro,  who  told^you  of  her  engagement?" 

"She  will  deny  it.  I  heard  it  from  Euiz  and  saw  the  ring  before 
it  was  given.  But  I  am  idling  this  to  you  who  have  no  interest  in 
the  mailer,  seeing  von  are  almost  a  stranger  to  the  parties.  I  will 
not  detain  you  further,  except  to  thank  you  for  the  pleasure  of  your 
company  to  my  home.  Being  both  unbelievers,  as  the  Christians  call 
us,  I  irust  to  see  you  often,  senor." 

Guy  moved  abstractedly  down  the  street,  not  noticing  {lie  few 
pedestrians  he  passed.  One  of  these  —  a  tall,  young  Mexican  —  re- 
garded him  with  peculiar  interest,  and  turned  to  look  after  him  until 
he  had  reached  a  distant  corner. 

"What  has  he  been  doing  in  this  quarter,"  he  muttered,  as  Guy 
disappeared;  "the  murdering  Gringo." 

It  was  Sancho. 

Guy  reached  the  plaza  and  mechanically  crossed  towards  San 
Fernando.  He  was  about  to  pass  the  front  entrance  of  the  church 
without  noticing  Jose,  who  stood  at  the  gate  awaiting  his  approach. 

•  lose's  liaiJ  brought,  him  to  himself  again. 

"Senor  Raymond,  Father  Tgnacio  would  like  to  see  .you.  I  went 
to  the  carcel,  but  Bonito  was  as  cross  as  a  bear  and  would  give  me 
no  more  satisfaction,  save  that  you  had  been  there  this  morning." 

"All  right,  Jose;  where  will"  I  find  him?" 

"In  the  sitting-room,  senor." 

Guy  entered  the  house,  but  avoiding  the  room  to  which  he  had 
been  directed  by  Jose,  repaired  to  his  own  apartment.  It  looked  to 
him  gloomy  enough  without  a  fire  in  his  present  mood.  He  threw 
himself  upon  the  bed  without  any  apparent  purpose,  and,  bolstering 
his  head  with  the  hard  Mexican  pillow,  said  just  audibly: 

"Beatrice  —  engaged  !" 


164  GUY  BAYM.OND. 


CHAPTEE  XXV. 

We  left  Karnes  watching  the  movements  of  the  guard  at  the 
powder  house,  while  Nathan  Eoacli  went  hack  to  pilot  the  rest  of  their 
party  to  the  chaparral  surrounding  it. 

The  angelus  from  San  Fernando  had  not  yet  ceased  when  a  squad 
of  soldiers  marched  into  view  from  where  the  road  lost  itself  in  the 
direction  of  the  town. 

This  was  the  relief. 

The  guard  saw  their  approach,  formed  lazily  into  line  and  took 
their  pieces  from  the  stack.  The  relief  passed  before  the  line,  bring- 
ing down  their  pieces  in  answer  to  its  present,  halted  and  dressed 
backward  on  the  right.  The  sentry  was  then  relieved,  arms  again 
stacked  and  a  general  pow-wow  ensued. 

"Why  in  thunder  don't  the  old  guard  go  back?"  muttered  Karnes. 

The  reason  was  explained  to  him,  Karnes  thought,  when  he  saw 
the  corporal  and  three  others  of  the  old  guard  resume  an  interrupted 
game  of  cards. 

"The  gambling  yaller-bellies!  They'll  neglect  anything  for  a 
game.  If  they  crowd  it  on  to  me  we'll  just  light  into  the  layout 
Seven  of  us  ought  to  be  equal  to  sixteen  greasers.  Nathe  and  me 
could  lick  half  of  them" 

The  watcher  began  to  grow  impatient.  He  did  not  much  like  tie 
augmented  force  of  his  enemy,  although  he  would  not  admit  a  fear 
of  numbers,  and  he  vented  his  displeasure  on  Nathan  for  not  having 
given  some  signal  of  his  return. 

"The  blasted  poke!     He's  crawling  on  all  fours  there  and  back, 
reckon.     If  ever  I  wanted  a  thing  done  quick  and  well  I've  had  to  d< 
it  myself." 

His  muttering  was  interrupted  by  the  appearance  of  a  Mexican 
at  the  window  above,  who  looked  intenely  to  the  eastward,  then  called 
to  those  below,  pointing  at  the  same  time  in  that  direction. 

Karnes  could  not  divine  his  words,  but,  knew  he  must  have  seen 
something  of  interest,  as  instantly  two  others  ascended  to  his  side 
and  scanned  the  country  from  beneath  their  palms. 

"What  can  Nathe  be  doing?" 

Impatience  getting  the  better  of  him,  Karnes  crawled  away  in 
direction   Nathan   "Roach    had   taken.     He   had    not   proceeded    mnn.v 
yards  when  he  perceived  his  men  cautiously  approaching,  led  hv  the 
tardy  messenger.      Aflcr   whispered   consultation,  a   plan   was  decided 
upon,  which  involved   an  effort  to  cap! lire  or  destroy  the  whole  de- 


j 

in 

, 

in 

ido 



nv 


GUY    I.  \YAI<>  NT).  165 

tachment  of  the  enemy.  Three  of  ihe  pnriy  had  pistols  in  addition 
to  their  guns.  The  men  were  to  deploy  until  a  distance  of  several 
feet  would  separate  them,  then  move  steadily  to  the  verge  of  the 
opening,  or  until  a  further  advance  would  endanger  a  disclosure  of 
their  positions.  The  men  severally  on  either  flank  were  to  take  delib- 
erate aim  at  an  enemy  opposite.  The  center  was  ordered  jo  direct 
their  shots  at  men  on  neither  extreme,  but  to  choose  an  aim  to  the 
left  or  right,  according  to  position,  the  object  being  to  make  every 
bullet  count,  in  order  to  ensure  to  (he  enemy  the  possible  maximum 
loss  at  the  first  volley. 

The  signal  to  fire  was  to  be  a  quail  call  from  Karnes.  The  pro- 
gram having  been  arranged,  the  movement  began.  The  commander 
occupied  the  center  and  was  first  in  position.  The  old  guard  was 
in  line,  having  just  taken  arms.  The  two  non-commissioned  officers 
were  talking  to  one  side.  The  sentry  was  walking  his  post.  The 
other  men,  who  had  formed  the  relief,  were  inside  the  house. 

Karnes  saw  at  once  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost.  He  anxiously 
peered  through  the  undergrowth  to  satisfy  himself  that  his  men  were 
in  their  places.  He  instantly  covered  the  right-center  man  of  the 
squad,  waited  until  the  sentinel  had  come  in  line,  just  two  or  three 
feet  behind  him,  and  gave  the  signal. 

An  almost  simultaneous  discharge  of  all  the  pieces  followed. 

Karnes,  Nathan  and  Hamilton,  who  had  pistols,  immediately 
rushed  forward  with  yells,  while  the  others  followed,  loading  their 
pieces.  The  terrified  Mexicans  became  demoralized.  The  charge 
had  followed  so  quickly  after  the  shots,  whose  fatal  effect  was  now 
plainly  visible,  that  the  luckless  soldiers  inside  the  building  did  not 
sally  for  their  arms,  still  stacked  a  few  feet  from  them. 

Three  shots  only  received  the  onset  of  the  Texans.  The  discharge 
of  the  pistols  at  close  quarters  brought  to  terms  those  who  had  escaped 
the  first  fire,  while  the  occupants  of  the  house  shut  and  barricaded 
the  door. 

The  whole  plan  had  so  far  succeeded.  Six  of  those  with  arms,  in- 
cluding the  sentinel,  had  fallen.  Two  corporals  and  two  privates  sur- 
rendered. Karnes  posted  Ducio  and  Jones  to  pick  off  any  of  the  Mex- 
icans inside  who  might  show  themselves  at  the  window  above  for  the 
purpose  of  acting  on  the  offensive.  He  then  examined  those  who  had 
been  put  hors  du  combat  and  found  that  five  of  them  had  been  killed 
outright  and  one  mortally  wounded.  His  next  thought  was  how  to 
make  prisoners  of  the  balance. 

"Fire  the  door,"  suggested  Roach. 

"Suggest  to  them  the  propriefv  of  surrender.     I  will  draw  up  the 


166  GUY  RAYMOND. 

articles  of  capitulation,"  said  Hamilton,  gaily. 

"Fire  will  never  do,"  said  Mr.  Trigg ;  "it  will  signal  to  the  balance 
of  the  town/' 

"Hamilton's  idea  is  the  best.  Let  us  first  ask  them  to  surrender,'' 
said  Karnes.  "Mr.  Smith,  remove  the  prisoners  further  away  to  the 
left/' 

Karnes  then  approached  the  door  and  demanded  in  indifferent 
Mexican  that  those  within  should  surrender  at  discretion,  adding 
that  on  failure  to  comply,  the  virtue  of  fire  would  be  tried  as  a 
persuader. 

After  a  parley  that  extended  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  terms  were 
agreed  upon  and  the  door  was  opened.  Five  men  only  made  their 
appearance.  Karnes  demanded  the  whereabouts  of  the  remaining  man. 
They  denied  that  any  more  had  constituted  their  force. 

"He  must  be  in  there,"  said  Karnes,  "for  sixteen  of  the  yaller 
devils  were  here  when  we  woke  'em  up." 

"If  he  is  in  here  I  will  find  him,"  said  Hamilton,  as  he  entered 
the  place. 

Seeing  no  vestige  of  humanity  below,  he  bounded  up  the  steps. 

Karnes  saw  that  the  prisoners  were  secured,  and  placing  tho  last 
quota  in  charge  of  Smith,  he  ordered  Ducio  and  Jones  to  go  for  the 
horses,  and  to  lose  no  time. 

"Wouldn't  it  be  safer  to  go  to  the  horses  ?"  suggested  Jones ;  "when 
I  was  in  India— 

"D n  India,  sir!     Do   as  you   are  ordered;  start  the  hors 

this  way ;  we  will  meet  you." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Karnes;  I  only  wanted  to  tell  you  of  a  rule 
Lord  Dalrymple's." 

"My  rule  is  the  one  for  this  squad  to  follow — be  off." 

A  noise  on  the  steps  here  attracted  the  attention  of -all.  and  Hai 
ilton  appeared,  dragging  a  Mexican  after  him. 

"Here  is  your  sixteenth  man,  captain.  He  was  up  at  the  top  coi 
cealed  like  a  hedgehog  in  his  periodical  retreat.  He  was  ensconced 
beneath  a  pile  of  hay  that  these  sons  of  Montezuma  doubtless  used  as 
a  bed  when  they  should  have  been  guarding  the  interests  of  old  Santy." 

"It  was  a  job  to  get  the  devils  in  town  after  us.  The  feller  wa> 
to  break  for  there  no  sooner'd  we  be  out  of  sight,"  said  "Roach,  chuck- 
ing the  prisoner  under  the  chin.  "You're  a  sooner,  you  is." 

"Mr.  Roach  is  likely  enough  to  be  right,"  said  M  r.  Trigg. 

"Nathe,  search  the  prisoners  and  take  from  them  rvrrylliiiig  in 
their  possession  and  put  all  in  a  (tile.  I  will  examine  the  pockrfs  of 
these  dead  fellows.  Hamilton,  go  up  and  keep  a  lookout  towards 


GUY  RAYMOND.  167 

town,  for  this  is  a  bad  place  for  a  squad  without  pickets,  as  those 
poor  devils  found  out." 

Karnes'  orders  were  obeyed,  while  he  bent  over  the  dead.  Nathan 
dexterously  relieved  the  living  of  the  odds  and  ends  that  he  could 
detect  about  their  persons  and  placed  them,  as  directed,  all  together 
on  the  ground.  The  commander  added  the  result  of  his  search  and 
found  variety,  if  not  value,  had  constituted  the  effects  of  the  van- 
quished. A  half  dozen  sheath  knives  were  the  most  acceptable.  A 
lot  of  monte  cards,  some  silver  change,  buckskin  strings,  a  clasp  knife, 
tobacco,  a  few  shucks  ready  fashioned  for  cigarettes,  a  rosary  and  a 
common  memorandum  bonk  were  about  the  sum  of  the  articles. 
Nathan  held  up  the  beads  with  a  quaint  expression  upon  his  quainter 
physiognomy. 

"These  here  is  what  them  heal  hens  prays  on." 

"You  had  better  be  making  light  of  things  that  you  are  after 
knowing  something  ahoul.  Mister  Roach ;  for  it's  heathens  they  are 
that  don't  know  about  a  rosary  and  don't  say  the  prayers  that's  said 
on  it." 

"Then  T  want  to  be  a,  heathen." 

"It's  glad  I  am  that  you're  suited." 

"Mere's  a  book,  Mr.  Twig.  It's  got  writin'  in  it.  I  can't  read 
printin',  let  alone  wrilhf.  IMcbby  you  can  guess  it  out." 

Mr.  Trigg  took  the  book  and  put.  it  into  his  pocket. 

"Return  the  prisoners  all  their  property  except  their  knives,"  com- 
manded Karnes. 

"If  there's  any  papers  keep  them  also.  I  thought  I  saw  a  memo- 
randum book." 

"Mr.  Twig's  got,  it,  Karnes,  but  1  lay  he  can't  read  it." 

|"Trigg's  my  name,  sir." 
"Your  pardon,  friend  ;  I  meant  no  'fense." 

'Tome,  N"athe,  get  along  with  the  prisoners.  You  and  Smith 
take  an  extra  gun.  I  will  call  Hamilton  and  we  three  will  bring  the 
rest  of  the  arms.  Take  the  direction  to  the  horses,  so  as  to  meet  Jones 
and  the  other  man." 

Hamilton  obeyed  the  summons  down,  reporting  everything  quiet 
in  and  towards  town.  He  called  attention  to  the  hazy  appearance  of 
the  northern  horizon  and  predicted  that  it  meant  a  blow. 

The  three  men  gathered  up  the  captured  arms  and  followed  after 
tic  prisoners.  Meeting  the  horses  a  little  further  on,  they  stopped 
to  arrange  for  the  march  to  rejoin  the  command.  The  muskets  were 
distributed;  the  prisoners  secured  in  pairs  to  a  lariat,  one  end  of 
which  was  tied  to  Nathan's  saddle  horse.  He  and  Ducio  followed 


168  GUY  RAYMOND. 

after  Karnes;  the  others  brought  up  the1  rear.  In  this  order  they 
commenced  their  march,  skirting  the  hills  whose  range  pointed  to  the 
southwest  and  divided  the  valleys  of  the  San  Antonio  and  Salado. 

"A  right  smart  brush  that  was.  Sixteen  at  a  lick  and  none  of 
our'n  hurt/'  said  Nathan  to  Ducio. 

"I  got  my  man,  but  some  one  missed/'  said  the  latter. 

"Ef  anybody  missed,  it  must  a  been  you  or  Smith." 

"There  were  six  killed  and  seven  guns  fired.  Mr.  Karnes,  who 
do  you  think  missed." 

"I  don't  like  to  say,  Half  en ;  I  think  I  got  two  with  my  one  shot." 

"How  could  that  be?" 

"That  shows  the  boy  ain't  up  to  snuff.  I  saw  your  play,  Karnes ; 
you  know  it's  one  of  our  tricks." 

"If  Mr.  Karnes  killed  two,  then  two  of  our  shots  missed  their 
mark.  What  was  the  trick,  Roach  ?" 

"Why  Karnes  jest  waited  tel  the  sent'nel  lined  his  man,  and  then 
he  popped  them  both.  Can't  yer  see?  He  nor  me  don't  miss,  we 
don't." 

The  progress  of  the  party  was  slow.  The  prisoners  were  sullen  and 
made  no  attempt  to  move  with  celerity.  Hamilton  was  keeping  up 
the  spirits  of  the  rear  by  an  occasional  hit  at  Jones.  The  latter  bore 
it  with  scarcely  a  ruffle  to  his  temper,  now  and  then  appealing  to  Mr. 
Trigg  to  help  him  out. 

"Jones,  I  would  like  to  hear  that  rule  of  Lord  Somebody's  ov 
in  India  that  you  attempted  to  quote  to  Mr.  Karnes  up  at  the  powde 
house." 

"What  would  be  the  use  of  telling  it  to  a  rattle  brain  like  yo 
You  would  be  sure  to  ridicule  it." 

"Rattle  brain !     You  don't  know  my  prowess.     I'm  naturally  ga 
and,  with  my  present  environment,  do  not  show  the  polish   which 
exists  under  this  rough  exterior,  nor  the  intellect  imprisoned  behind 
this  massive  brow,  awaiting  but  the  occasion  to  call  it  forth  to  benefit 
my  race  and  country." 

"Bosh !     You  got  that  out  of  some  trashy  book." 

"One  can't  expect  the  truth  from  you.  A  recognition  of  m 
worth  would  be  an  expression  of  truth — ergo,  as  the  logicans  say 
you  could  not  do  me  justice." 

"You  rarely  say  a  sensible  thing." 

"Would  you  have  me  e'er  with  clouded  brow^grim-visaged,  utte 
ing  only  sage  expressions  and  moral  truths;  or  worse,  telling  impos- 
sible adventures  or  palpable  lies,  that  neither  poini  ;i   moral   nor  ador 
a  tale?     The  mess  would  die  of  ennui  if  I  did  not  come  to  the  resc 


: 


GUY  RAYMOND.  169 

and  offset  your  lugubrious  falsifications  by  my  flow  of  wit  and  fund 
of  folly.  Why,  Mr.  Trigg  wouldn't  have  smiled  in  any  other  mess, 
and  I  have  kept  him  healthy  with  laughing/' 

"It  doesn't  hurt  to  have  a  bit  of  fun,"  said  Mr.  Trigg. 

Karnes  here  cut  short  their  talk  by  riding  to  the  rear  and  direct- 
ing Hamilton,  Jones  and  Mr.  Trigg  to  hand  over  their  captured  guns 
to  the  others  and  accompany  him  in  a  detour  he  intended  to  make, 
so  as  to  pass  near  the  mission  of  Concepcion.  Nathan  was  put  in 
command  of  the  others  with  instructions  what  point  to  make  for, 
and  the  parties  separated. 

The  mission  was  in  plain  view  and  situated  two  miles  below  the 
town.  Karnes.,  like  a  true  scout,  wished  to  leam  if  any  force  was 
there,  and  to  pick  up  any  information  that  would  be  likely  to  benefit 
the  army,  from  a  point  he  knew  must  be  in  the  line  of  march  in  the 
advance  soon  to  be  made  on  the  Mexican  stronghold.  The  squad 
went  forward  at  a  gallop,  without  any  attempted  concealment,  head- 
ing first  obliquely  towards  the  river,  until  not  more  than  six  hundred 
yards  intervened  between  the  dark  old  structure  and  their  position. 
Heading  boldly  in  its  direction,  they  circled  it  in  close  rifle  shot,  but 
not  a  foe  could  be  seen.  Two  women  appearing  in  the  door  of  a  jacal 
in  the  rear  of  the  mission,  Karnes  rode  near  and  addressed  them  in 
their  language: 

"Any  soldiers  been  here  today  ?" 

"Si  senor,  esta  manana." 
ow  many?" 
b  no  se,  muchos." 
A  great  many  !     How  many  ?" 

"Ciento,  dos  cientos,  mas  o  menos." 

e  or  two  hundred,  more  or  less,"  he  repeated  after  her.     "How 
the  picket  from  here  ?'' 

"No  se  yo." 

"Don't  you  go  to  town  sometimes  ?" 

"fli,  senor." 


far  is  ti 


ell  then,  where  do  you  pass  the  soldiers  when  you  go  and  when 
turn?" 

"Oh !   si   yo  lo  intiendo  bien,  en  esta  casita  bianco   a  lado  del 
dno." 

The  woman  had  understood  and  definitely  located  the  position  of 
the  picket  at  a  little  white  house  near  some  trees  by  the  side  of  the 
road. 

If  lie  had  not  been  encumbered  with  the  prisoners,  Karnes  would 
have  iixliik'-od  his  humor  to  call  up  his  full  force  and  surprise  the 


170  GUY  RAYMOND. 


^^•H 

; 


guard  at  the  little  white  house,  but  he  had  done  enough  to  set 
hive  in  an  uproar.     He  had  not  received  a  sting  and  would  rejoi 
his    command    with    a    whole   skin    and    plenty    of    evidence   of   h 
success. 

"Well,  men,  let  us  strike  out  for  our  friends." 

"In  good  season,  too,"  said  Hamilton.     "There  comes  the  blow 
predicted.     The  air  has  cooled  in  the  last  minute/1 

"It's  a  norther,  and  it's  time  we  had  one,"  said  Karnes. 

"From  the  looks  of  yon  sky  we  will  have  a  stiff  one  this  time/" 
said  Mr.  Trigg. 

"You  have  followed  the  sea,  Mr.  Trigg?"  asked  Karnes. 

"I  did,  sir." 

"Then  there  ought  to  be  many  a  good  yarn  in  you." 

"He  let  us  have  one  or  two  on  the  Cibolo,"  said  Hamilton. 

"If  I  had  the  Pagination  of  Mister  Jones  I  could  br  after  telling 
many  a  one." 

"And  you,  too,  Mr.  Trigg,"  said  Jones. 

"Et  tu  Trigge !"  corrected  Hamilton;  "why  don't  you  use  your 
Latin.     I  will  wager  you  were  more  classical  in  India." 

"Sure — them  elephants  must  a  knocked  it  outi  of  him." 

"Or  that  rule  of  Lord  Dalrymple's  proscribed  its  use,"  said  Ham- 
ilton. 

"Sure,  I  heard  nothing  about  the  rule." 

"No,  for  Mr.  Karnes  sealed  him  up.     The  gravity  of  the  occasi 
and  our  proximity  to  the  enemy,  encumbered  as  we  were  with  the  spoils 
of  victory,  rendered  necessary  the  postponement  of  its  promulgatio 
Now,  Jones,  is  the  opportune  moment.     Give  us  his  lordship's  ru 
and  I  will  take  it  down  phonetically." 

"You'd  pronounce  it  a  lie.     Even  Mr.  Trigg  is  against  me." 

"Here's  the  norther,  boys,"  said  Karnes. 

The  flying  hats  of  all  except  the  last  speakers  went  sailinginadvan 
and  a  merry  chase  was  given  them  by  their  owners.  Even  Mr.  Trigg, 
unusually  good  humored  during  the  scout,  gave  vent  to  a  hearty  laugh 
as  lie  spurred  after  his  truant  covering.  The  wind  increased  to  great 
violence,  sending  the  dust  flying  in  blinding  clouds.  It  was  the  same 
blow  that  stampeded  the  herd  whose  onset  endangered  the  lives  of 
Beatrice  Navarre  and  her  rescuer. 

Opposite  the  mission  of  San  Jose,  four  miles  further  down  the  riv 
Karnes  caught  up  with  Captain  Bowie,  whom  Nathan  Roach,  with  t 
prisoners,  had  already  joined.     Bowie  was  very  fond  of  Karnes  an 
was  proud  of  his  achievement.     Roach  had  given  a  spirited  account 
of  the  affair,  much  to  the  entertainment  of  the  listeners. 


of 

:; 

m< 


GUY  RAYMOND.  171 

The  detachment  had  picked  a  camp  and  already  several  huge  log 
fires  were  burning  brightly,  giving  protection  to  the  men  from  the 
blast,  which  had  well  nigli  chilled  them  to  the  bone.  The  rest  of  the 
command  had  communicated  their  arrival  at  the  mission  of  Espada, 
a  little  further  down  the  stream,  and  Bowie  was  ordered  to  keep  a 
vigilant  lookout  to  prevent  a  surprise. 

From  Karnes'  report  there  was  no  immediate  danger  to  be  antici- 
pated from  an  attack.  The  boldness  of  his  conduct  at  the  powder 
house,  which  doubtless  became  known  in  the  town  during  the  after- 
noon, must  have  confirmed  the  enemy  in  the  belief  that  a  large  force 
of  Texans  were  at  hand.  This  would  keep  them  cautious  for  a  while, 
nn til  a  reconnoitre  should  disclose  the  absence  of  any  enemy  to  be 
feared.  When  our  squad  had  refreshed  themselves  after  their  day's 
work,  they  sat  by  a  comfortable  fire  recounting  the  brush  with  the 
Mexicans,  and  wondering  when  the  next  affair  would  come  off. 

"By  the  way,  Mr.  Trigg,"  said  Hamilton,  "have  you  that  memo- 
randum book  in  your  pocket?  I'd  like  to  see  what  is  written  in  it." 

"That's  whar  you'll  get  left,  Mister  Hamilton.  You  kin  use  jaw- 
breakers, but  the  Mexican  lingo  is  what'll  git  you." 

M  r.  Trigg  drew  from  his  pocket  the  book  in  question,  and,  passing 
it  to  Hamilton,  said: 

"You  can  study  it  out.  If  T  had  a  mind  to,  I  couldn't,  for  my 
glasses  are  put  away  in  my  roll." 

It  was  early  evening  and  as  Hamilton  turned  it  to  the  firelight 
and  bent  over  to  examine  the  contents,  he  exclaimed: 

"No  Mexican — this.  It  is  the  pure  vernacular  and  the  best  of 
English/1 

"What's  it  about?''  asked  several. 

"Read  it,"  said  two  or  three  voices. 

Hamilton  began  reading,  and  when  he  finished,  had  imparted 
to  his  auditors  the  complete  memorandum  made  by  Guy  Kay- 
mond  of  his  adventures  up  1<>  ihe  lime  of  his  imprisonment  in  the 
can-el.  One  of  the  Mexicans  who  met  his  deaih  at  the  powder  house 
was  the  sentinel  at  the  carcel,  who  secured  the  pocket  book  left  by 
(,'uy  on  tlie  bench  under  flic  window  of  his  cell. 

Mr.  Trigg  became  interested  at  the  commencement  of  Hamilton's 
reading,  and  was  much  excited  when  the  dog  Eolla  was  mentioned. 

When  it  came  to  Stella's  and  his  own  partly  spelled  name,  he 
could  sea  reel  v  control  himself. 

"(Jive  me  the  book,  sir.  T  had  it  all  this  time  in  my  pocket  and 
none  the  wiser  of  what  it  could  tell  me,  just  for  the  looking  at  it. 
I'll  get  my  specs  and  read  it  over." 


"Is  it  anyone  you  know  ?"  asked  several. 

"It's  the  boy  I've  been  wanting.     I  feared  he  was  dead.     He  migh 
as  well  be  under  the  ground  or  back  with  the  Indians  as  to  be  in 
power  of  the  dirty  greasers." 

Mr.  Trigg  would  brook  no  more  questioning,  but  set  to  work  to 
unroll  his  blankets  and  get  his  glasses  from  a  pouch  where  he  carried 
his  little  valuables.  We  will  leave  the  big-hearted  Irishman  to  pore 
over  the  record  of  his  boy's  troubles  while  our  squad,  relieved  from 
guard  duty,  got  tired  of  story  telling  and  lapsed  into  slumber. 
CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Eeveille  at  daybreak  on  the  following  morning  roused  the  men 
of  Bowie's  command,  who  were  still  sleeping.  The  norther  had 
greatly  abated,  but  the  air  was  crisp  and  raw,  piercing  the  scanty 
blankets  and  light  clothing  of  the  volunteers,  most  of  whom  had  left 
their  homes  hastily  and  unprepared  for  a  winter  campaign.  The 
last  laggard  had  crawled  from  his  nest  and  joined  his  squad  around 
the  fire,  when  another  call  soiftided.  Very  few  of  the  men  knew  much 
about  military  calls,  and  several  conjectures  were  indulged  in  by  our 
squad  as  to  its  meaning.  Mr.  Trigg,  who  had  descended  the  bank  of 
a  little  stream  running  near  to  perform  his  morning  ablutions,  now 
joined  them  with  the  remark : 

"What's  the  assembly  call  for,  Mister  Hamilton  ?" 

"I  presume  it  is  called  for  us  to  assemble,  sir,"  replied  Hamilton. 
Hamilton  had  been  the  only  one  who  had  not  admitted  his  ignorance 
of  the  purpose  of  the  call. 

"Why  didn't  you  say  what  it  was  for  when  we  were  talking  a 
it  just  now  ?"  said  Jones,  addressing  Hamilton. 

"Do  you  expect  me  to  be  everlastingly  lighting  up  your  benight 
mind?" 

"I  will  bet  he  didn't  know  it  was  assembly  call  until  Mr.  Trigg 
came  up,"  said  Ducio ;  "did  he,  Roach  ?" 

"No  tellin',  when  it  comes  to  knowin'  things  what  he  don't  know. 
He  must  a  learnt  that  whar  he  learnt  them  hifalutin  words  he's  alw 
poking  at  Jones." 

"Where  did  you  learn  that  call,  Mr.  Trigg?  I  thought  you  were 
a  sailor." 

"Fact  is,  I'm  after  being  a  little  of  everything.  I  was  at  Orleans, 
sir.  The  call  you  have  heard  is  the  same  as  they  have  in  the  army 
over  there;  and  that  chap  with  the  bugle  was  in  Uncle  Sam's  band/' 
he  says.  "There'll  be  a  second  call,  if  he  means  businesss,  and  ye  all 
will  have  to  get  into  line.  Do  vo  mind  iliat  fellow  n'oing  around  a 
telling  of  them  ?" 


GUY  RAYMOND.  173 

Here  Karnes  en  mo  up  mid  askr-d  what  the  bugle  had  sounded  for. 
Hamilton  informed  him  with  an  air  imparting  a  thorough  familiarity 
with  calls  of  all  descriptions. 

"Suppose  we  march  up  in  file  at  the  second  call,  if  one  is  made. 
The  other  greenies  will  imagine  we  are  veterans.  In  India  when — 

"Blast  India !  It  is  dangerous  ground  for  you,  Jones.  But  his 
suggestion  is  nearer  wisdom  than  usual.  Suppose  we  do  it.  Fll 
command  the  squad/'  said  Hamilton. 

The  words  were  scarcely,  out  of  his  lips  when  the  bugle  sounded. 

"Fall  in  squad!  Tallest  in  front!  At  the  tail  end,  Smith! 
There !  S-t-e-a-d-y— s-o." 

The  squad  had  fallen  in  promptly,  but  were  rather  merry  at  the 
assumed  authority  of  their  pedantic  commander. 

"Stop  your  laughing!  Left  face!  Right,  dress!  Back  a  little, 
Mr.  Roach.  Steady !  Front !  Squad  forward,  guide  right — 
March !"' 

The  men  marched  briskly  along,  keeping  pretty  fair  step,  except 
Nathan  Roach,  whose  long  body  made  a  curve,  while  his  head  bent 
forward,  continuing  the  arc  of  the  ragged  circle  formed  by  his  back. 

"Straighten  up.  Roach.  For  God's  sake  stop  bobbing  up  and 
down,  and  shorten  your  everlasting  step.  You  are  disgracing  the 
squad.  Just  look  at  Mr.  Trigg,  old  enough  to  be  your  grandfather, 
but  as  straight  as  an  arrow.1" 

Hamilton  marched  them  in  front  of  headquarters,  halted  and 
dressed  the  line,  reported  their  presence  and  took  his  position  on  their 
right. 

The  movement  caused  a  hearty  laugh  and  did  more  to  assemble 
the  men  than  the  notes  of  the  bugle.  The  volunteers  were  a  raw  set, 
as  a  body.  They  knew  nothing  of  discipline,  and  the  younger  ones 
had  probably  never  heard  a  military  command. 

Captain  Bowie  finally  obtained  silence  and  thus  addressed  the 
crowd : 

"Fellow  soldiers :  I  have  called  you  together  to  inform  'you  that 
we  have  marching  orders  that  will  admit  of  no  delay.  The  contem- 
plated movement  is  one  of  importance,  and  every  man  in  my  command 
must  at  once  set  about  preparing  cooked  rations  for  twenty-four 
hours;  see  that  his  arms  and  ammunition  are  in  first-class  order  and 
make  himself  ready  in  every  respect  to  meet  our  enemy.  Captain 
Farinin's  command  will  march  with  us,  while  the  main  army  will 
follow  in  supporting-  distance.  I  noticed  just  now  a  germ  of  dis- 
cipline, which  I  trust  will  be  emulated  by  every  squad  in  my  com- 
pany. I  am  aware  that  the  men  who  displayed  it  were  actuated  by 

12-r 


174  Gkrx  RAYMOND. 

a  spirit  of  fun,  but  it  shows  how  voluntary  may  discipline  become 
among  men  prepared  to  surrender  a  little  personal  liberty  and  ease 
for  the  sake  of  that  civil  liberty  which  will  be  the  result  of  the 
triumph  of  our  cause.  Men,  obey  the  orders  I  have  just  given  you/' 

"Hurrah  for  Jim  Bowie  !"  came  from  a  score  of  throats. 

The  canfp  was  soon  in  the  bustle  of  preparation.  It  was  the 
twenty-seventh  of  October.  Karn.cs'  discovery  of  the  position  of  the 
enemy  within  the  walls  of  San  Antonio,  with  only  light  pickets 
thrown  out  within  a  mile  or  so  from  town,  had  been  dispatched  to 
General  Austin  by  courier  the  evening  before.  The  messenger 
found  him  at  the  mission  of  Espada,  just  dismissing  the  members 
of  the  council  to  return  to  the  seat  of  government.  After  a  brief 
consultation  with  his  principal  officers,  the  commander-in-chief  de- 
termined on  a  forward  movement  to  terminate  in  the  investment  and 
capture  of  the  town  and  the  Alamo.  He  therefore  sent  orders  to 
Carjtain  Bowie  and  Fannin  to  put  their  forces  in  motion;  to  approach 
San  Antonio  as  near  as  prudence  might  determine,  and  await  the  ar- 
rival of  the  army.  In  obedience  to  this  order  Captain  Bowie  assem- 
bled his  company  as  detailed  in  the  beginning  of  this  chapter. 

"I'd  like  to  know  where  the  twenty-four  hours'  cooked  rations 
are  coming  from.  These  two  quarts  of  meal  wont  more  than  do  for 
breakfast,  and  the  dried  beef  in  those  saddle  bags  won't  last  two 
meals,"  said  Karnes. 

"That  comes  from  taking  Roach  in  our  mess.  He  is  so  long  it 
takes  three  rations  to  fill  him,"  said  Hamilton. 

"But  he  stands  starvation,"  put  in  Karnes,  apologetically.  "You 
should  have  seen  him  up  on  the  Trinity  where  we  Were  without  grub 
for  three  days,  and  the  red  devils  after  us/' 

"It  is  a  wonder  that  our  friend  from  India  don't  see  you  on  t 
and  go  twenty  days  better." 

"I  am  glad,  Mr.  Hamilton,  that  you  see  fit  to  doubt  someb 
else's  veracity,  as  well  as  mine." 

"Never  had  a  doubt  about  yours,  sir ;  never  once  since  the  eleph 
story." 

"Give  him  a  rest,  Hamilton,  for  the  Lawd's  sake.  Ef  I  was 
Jones  I'd  whip  you  before  night,"  said  N"athan. 

"Just  save  your  fighting  propensities  for  the  greasers,  as  I  t 
you  once  before.  Jones  and  myself  understand  each  other." 

"Hurrah!  If  there  is  not  Perry!"  cried  Hamilton,  dropping 
gun,  which  he  was  cleaning,  and  starting  to  meet  the  niesen-vr 
San  Filipe,  who  had  come  in  sight  a  few  yards  up  the  road. 

Mr.  Trigg  had  been  making  his  own  preparations  in  silence,  paying 


wan 

: 


GUY  RAYMOND.  175 

little  attention  to  the  light  talk  of  his  messmates,  but  when  he  heard 
Hamilton's  exclamation  he  could  not  refrain  from  following  to  meet 
the  hoy. 

"We  thought  you  had  deserted  us,  Perry.  You  played  us  a  pretty 
tri'-k,  sneaking  off  at  night  and  never  a  good-bye." 

"  'Twas  orders,  Mr.  Hamilton ;  I  hadn't  a  minute's  warning." 

"You  missed  all  the  fun,  Perry.  Sixteen  greasers  succumbed  to 
our  valor  and — 

"Howdy,  Mr.  Trigg." 

"Welcome  hack,  my  boy.     I  hope  it's  good  news  ye  have  ?" 

"None  bad,  sir.  A  letter  which  I  have  for  you  will  tell  all  about 
those  you  want  in  hear  from.  Where  is  General  Austin?" 

"It  is  a  matter  of  five  or  six  miles  to  his  camp  down  the  river. 
The  captain  is  in  command,  here  and  you  had  better  report.  Soon  as 
you've  reported,  fetch  the  letter." 

"It  is  right  here  in  my  pocket.     Here  it  is." 

Mr.  Trigg  reached  eagerly  for  the  letter  and  walked  aside  to 
read  it. 

"You  had  a  fight,  then,"  said  Perry. 

I faiui Ron  related  to  him  the  particulars  of  the  affair  at  the  powder 
house. 

"So  the  old  man  was  in  it." 

"He's  true  grit/'  replied  Hamilton;  "and  Jones,  and  Ducio,  and 
that  fellow  Smith  :  and  you  remember  that  specimen  of  the  genus 
homo  who  came  to  the  camp  the  day  before  you  left — that  long,  lean, 
lanksided,  awkward  cuss,  whose  hands  reached  below  his  knees  when 
he  stood  as  near  erect  as  his  semi-circular  anatomy  could  attain  a 
perpendicular,  and  whose  thin,  hungry-looking  visage  was  emphasized 
by  his  drooping  chin  and  high  cheek  bones — that  fellow  who  rode 
that;  fine  sorrel  with  the  antedeluvian  saddle  and  stirrups  too  short 
for  him  by  a  foot,  and  at  whom  we  all  laughed  so?" 

"Ha!  ha  !"  laughed  Perry — remember  him!  That's  what  I'll  do 
'til  my  dying  day." 

"Well,  he  was  with  us.  But,  my  boy,  you  can  risk  you  last  cent 
that  he  is  a  whole  team.  He  can  crawl  on  his  belly  like  a  snake  and 
hide  in  irrass  a  foot  high." 

"What's  his  name?" 

"He  pursues  his  awkward  way  through  the  world  under  an  appel- 
lation whose  lack  of  euphony  is  in  keeping  with  his  tout-ensemble." 

"Far  GkxTs  sake,  Tipton 'Hamilton,  do  talk  English." 

"Forgive  me,  Perry,  but  Koach's  appearance  is,  in  itself,  a  source 
ictive  of  merriment,  irony  and  their  sisters  laughter  and  wit. 


. 


176  GUY  EAYMOND. 

But,  boy,  he  is  touchous.     In  my  first  sally  at  him  he  raised  the 
whoop  and  circled  the  air  with  his  ungainly  arms  until  I  apologize 
The  fellow  will  fight," 

"But  this  is  not  reporting;  where's  the — 

"There's  the  captain  at  his  breakfast." 

Hamilton  pointed  to  where  four  men  were  sitting  on  a  log  by 
fire  eating,  and  followed  the  youth  in  the  direction  indicated. 

"Perry,  we  have  got  marching  orders  to  go  right  into  town.  We 
will  be  off  in  an  hour  and  are  sure  to  have  a  brush  with  them.  If 
you  are  to  go  to  Austin's  camp  with  your  dispatches,  you'll  miss  the 
fun  again.  If  I  were  you,  I'd  beg  off  and  let  some  one  else  take  them. 
Ask  Bowie;  he'll  do  it." 

"All  right,  come  along  and  back  me  up ;  you're  good  on  the  talk." 

Perry  approached  and  accosted  Captain  Bowie,  telling  him  whence 
he  came  and  informing  him  of  his  possession  of  dispatches  for  army 
headquarters. 

"Well,  sir,  you  know  your  duty.  General  Austin  is  at  the  mission 
of  Espada,  six  miles  below  here.  What  road  did  you  travel  to  reach 
us?" 

"I  followed  the  cavalry  trail  that  left  the  main  body  and  it  brought 
me  right  to  you." 

"Have  you  picked  up  any  information  that  you  can  communicate 
for  our  benefit.  ?" 

"No,  sir ;  I  have  not  met  a  soul  on  the  way." 

"Take  the  dispatches  at  once  to  General  Austin;  but  stay — have 
you  had  your  breakfast?  If  not,  join  us  here." 

"Can't  some  one  else  take  them  to  General  Austin?"  stamme 
Perry;  "I  missed  the  powder  house  fight  and  now  I  am  ordered 
the  rear." 

"How  do  you  know  you  would  have  been  at  the  powder  hou 
Picked  men  were  sent  there." 

"Mr.  Karnes  would  have  picked  me,"  replied  Perry,  confidently. 

Here  Hamilton  suggested  that  a  fresh  man  and  a  fresh  horse  won 
be  better  to  entrust  with  important  dispatches. 

"That  is  true,"  said  Bowie.     "Young  man  you  can  march  with  us 

Mr.  Trigg  had  finished  reading  Stella's  letter  and  sat  in  me 
tative  mood  by  the  mass  fire  thinking  over  its  contents. 

"Pity  it  is  she's  been  so  long  with  that  giddy  aunt,  without  any 
religion  at  all.  But  the  dear  child  writes  sensible  like,  and  it's 
straightened  out  she'll  be  when  the  nuns  get  her,  of  all  that  infidel  talk 
about  duty  for  a  religion.  What's  duty  and  such  like  without  the  Blessed 
Mother  and  Saints  and  the  Holy  Church?  The  next  letter  she  gets 


GUY  EAYMOND.  177 

from  me  she'll  be  after  hearing  from  her  brother  being  in  San  Antonio. 
But  sure  it's  out  of  the  frying  pan  inio  the  fire  he  is — from  the  In- 
dia us  to  the  greasers.  'The  New  Orleans  volunteers/  them's  the 
fellows  that's  joined  the  general  since  we  marched.  It's  a  bad  ti un- 
to be  knocking  around  the  gulf  in  a  schooner;  but  it's  good  luck  I 
hope  she'll  have — 

"Mr.  Trigg,  I  am  not  to  go  any  further,  but  will  march  with  you. 
Here's  some  socks  Stella  sent  you." 

"She  spoke  of  them  in.  the  letter — the  dear  child — did  she  look 
happy,  Perry?"  _ 

"She  was  not  gay,  but  appeared  contented." 
"Were  the  cheeks  rosy — like  when  I  left  her?" 
ust  like  peaches,  sir." 

n  good  health,  then.     Perry,  her  brother  is  in  San  Antonio." 
ow  did  you  hear?" 

'We  got  this  memorandum  book  off  a  dead  Mexican  up  yonder. 
It's  Guy's  o\vu  writiif  and  tells  about  his  being  in  the  prison  and  get- 
ting away  from  the  Indians." 

"That  was  strange,"  said  Perry,  looking  over  the  book. 
"It's  what  I   call  providential,"  said  Mr.  Trigg. 

hat's  noi  the  word,"  said  1  lamillnn,  who  had  just  joined  them, 
t  was  rather  one  of  (hose  fortuitous  circumstances  that  permeate 
human  experience  and  pander  to  our  inclination  to  attribute  to  the 
su  ,'crnat  urul  all  that  appears  to  us  unaccountable.  What  can  be  easier 
to  explain  than  the  incident  you  attribute  to  an  act  of  Providence? 
Your  young  friend  is  a  prisoner  in  a  military  stronghold  and  con- 
sequently his  guard  is  a  soldier.  He  wrote  in  this  book.  The  sent  inel 
u'ot  it  into  Ins  possession  bv  some  means.  In  the  course  of  his 
duties  the  powder  house  became  his  temporary  post.  We  captured 
him  there,  and  the  book  is  in  your  hands.  See  it?" 

"You  may  have  it  that  way,  Mister  Hamilton,  but  remember  that 
find  directs  every  thing,  even  the  likes  of  the  falling  of  a  leaf." 
"Mr.  Trigg,  you  are  a  born  pantheist." 

"Ifs  a  Koinaii  Catholic  I  am,  sir.  Did  you  mane  T  was  a  Pro- 
testant?' 

no  means:  I  said  pantheist." 
d  what  is  that?" 

ne  who  belie\e>  that  the  whole  creation  is  Clod." 
verything  in  the  world  ?" 
\crytliing  in  the  universe." 
e's  a  horn  fool  as  believes  the  likes  of  that."  • 
biiirle  sounded   t  he  assembly. 


178  GUY  RAYMOND. 

The  men  had  made  hasty  preparations  for  the  march,  after  having 
partaken  of  their  breakfasts,  and  at  the  summons  from  the  bugle, 
they  commenced  to  mount  their  horses  and  assemble  in  the  road. 
The  company  of  Captain  Fannin,  which  had  been  camped  near,  came 
in  sight,  with  their  gallant  ocmmander  riding  at  the  head  of 
the  column.  They  numbered  fifty  men.  As  they  passed,  the  men 
of  Bowie's  company  cheered  them  with  a  will.  The  latter,  now 
formed,  answered  to  roll  call,  then  followed  in  Fannin's  rear  with 
forty  men  in  ranks. 

These  ninety  Texans  marched  away  with  the  mission  of  Concep- 
cion  as  their  objective  point,  where  they  were  to  await  the  commander 
in  chief  while  reconnoitering  the  position  of  the  enemy. 

This  mission  was  not  unlike  the  others  founded  by  the  Francis- 
cans early  in  the  eighteenth  century.  The  difference  consisted  in 
their  dimensions  and  the  amount  of  ornamentation  displayed  in  the 
architectural  finish  bestowed  on  the  front  elevations  and  side  openings. 
Concepcion  ranked  about  third  in  area  and  importance.  It  was  situ- 
ated four  hundred  yards  from  the  river  in  a  bend  made  by  the  latter 
to  the  west.  In  front  the  northern  view  was  open.  To  the  east 
a  prairie  stretched  a  thousand  yards  to  a  chain  of  hills.  Riverward 
was  timber,  just  beyond  a  bluff  that  bordered  the  valley  proper,  and 
which  made  an  angle  conforming  with  its  flow.  This  bluff  formed 
the  western  and  southern  sides  of  the  plateau  that  stretched  in- 
definitely to  the  north  and  mingled  on  the  east  with  the  undulations 
of  the  prairie.  A  few  Mexican  jacals  occupied  positions  near  and 
in  rear  of  the  church.  A  single  tower  surmounted  the  northwest 
corner  of  the  latter.  The  whole  structure  was  blackened  and  defaced 
by  the  ravages  of  time,  and  presented  all  the  aspects  of  neglect  that 
inevitably  follow  a  continued  absence  of  occupation  and  care. 

A  travelled  road  approached  from  the  direction  of  the  town  and 
passed  along  its  eastern  side  and  on  down  the  river.  This  road 
branched  to  the  right  about  one  hundred  paces  before  reaching 
Concepcion  and  found  its  way  to  a  ford,  where  it  crossed  and  led 
to  San  Jose,  four  miles  distant. 

A  position  on  the  parapet  of  the  church  afforded  a  good  view  of 
the  plateau,  whose  level  was  unbroken  for  nearly  a  mile,  save  by 
clumps  of  bushes  dotting  it  here  and  there.  Then  a  series  of  mottes, 
beginning  at  a  small  white  house  to  the  right  of  the  road,  disclosed 
themselves  in  tiers,  until  the  low  walls  of  the  houses  of  the  city, 
fin-ling  the  more  pretentious  masonry  of  San  Fernando,  filled  the 
background.  To  the  left,  the  timbered  river;  to  the  right,  the  rolling 
country,  culminating  in  the  hills,  whoro  the  garita — or  powder  house — 


GUY  RAYMOND.  179 

showed  itself  above  the  now  paling  foliage  of  the  mesquite,  completed 
the  picture. 

It  was  in  the  forenoon  of  the  twenty-seventh.  The  mission  had 
its  usually  deserted  appearance,  looking  dark  and  grim,  in  contrast 
with  the  flood  of  sunshine  that  poured  from  a  cloudless  sky. 

The  norther  had  spent  its  fury,  but  the  sharp  air  still  contended 
with  the  warmth  of  heaven,  and  yielded  only  where  cover  from  the 
polar  current  gave  vantage  to  the  descending  rays.  The  day  had  a 
la/y  look  with  all  its  brightness.  The  recent  fierceness  of  the  wind, 
cutting  and  cold,  had  driven  all  animated  nature  to  retreats,  whence 
ii  emerged  only  to  bask  in  sunshine  where  protecting  leaf  or  limb, 
hillside  or  wall,  gave  inviting  shelter.  Behind  the  low  wall  of  the  mis- 
sion wing  two  donkeys  stood  with  lowered  heads,  motionless  as  statu- 
ary, their  long  ears  limp  and  hori/ontal.  They  looked  the  picture  of 
repose.  Two  Mexicans,  with  blankets  thrown  close  around  their 
shoulders,  leaned  lazily  against  the  same  projection  near  its  eastern 
corner  and  were  conversing,  while  apparently  watching  a  woman 
near,  who,  in  a  sitting  posture,  was  busily  working  her  arms  as  if  she 
was  scrubbing.  A  nearer  inspection,  by  a  connoisseur,  however,  would 
have  at  once  disclosed  her  true  occupation  to  have  been  the  prepara- 
tion of  paste  for  tortillas.  A  slab  of  stone  on  the  ground  held  the 
softened  corn,  while  a  half  rounded  rock,  firmly  held  in  both  hands, 
was  used  to  reduce  the  grain  to  the  required  fineness.  The  doorway 
of  an  adobe  hut,  from  which  hung  a  fresada  with  looped  corner, 
disclosed  a  bed  and  articles  of  its  simple  furniture.  It  was  the 
domicil  of  the  tortilla  maker,  who  had  moved  to  the  shelter  of  the 
wa  1  for  protection.  She  frequently  ceased  the  movement  of  her  arms 
to  scrape  back  the  truant  grains  to  the  middle  of  the  slab,  and  while 
this  engaged  she  rattled  away  in  rapid  talk  to  the  men,  who  would 
reply  to  her  loquacity  in  nasal  tones,  while  a  smile  would  occasionally 
relieve  the  apathetic  expression  of  the  Aztec  features. 

"It  is  true,  or  my  name  is  not  Locaria  Landina." 

This  was  said  by  the  woman  in  response  to  some  doubt  about  a 
previous  assertion  she  had  made. 

"How  many  did  you  say?" 

Kve.     Five  mounted  Americans." 
-  what  time  in  the  day?" 
"About  three  hours  afler  dinner." 

"What  shall  we  do,  Juan?  Here  we  are  between  two  fires.  If 
we  join  these  fellows  there  is  no  Idling  what  desperate  fights  we  will 
he  |<-d  info.  If  we  do  not  join  ibein  (Jeneral  Cos  will  force  us  into 
the  army  and  we  will  have  io  meei  jhese  devils  of  American^" 


180  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"It  is  true.  Ramon.  The  best  thing  is  to  steal  horses  from  the 
herd  and  get  away  from  these  parts.  I  see  no  other  way." 

"A  good  idea  of  yours,  but  the  herd  will  be  kept  close.,  now  that 
the  Americans  are  around." 

"The  greatest  trouble  will  be— 

"There  comes  a  man  now,"  said  Locaria.  "If  I  remember  right, 
he  looks  like  the  officer  who  forced  my  brother  into  his  company." 

The  two  men  made  a  movement  as  if  to  retreat,  but  before  they 
could  move  more  than  a  pace  or  two,  a  horseman  came  up  at  a  canter 
and  reined  his  animal  to  a  halt  opposite  the  woman. 

"Buenas  Dias !  amigos,"  he  said,  saluting  the  three. 

They  all  -returned  the  greeting. 

"Where  is  your  brother — Locaria  ?" 

"My  brother !     Do  you  know  him  ?" 

"Well,  that  is  the  reason  I  could  call  your  name." 

"True,  you  did  call  me  Locaria.  I  was  so  frightened  I  did  not 
notice  it." 

"Still  you  have  not  answered  my  question." 

"Oh!  About  my  brother.  They  took  him  for  a  soldier.  When 
I  first  saw  you  I  thought  you  were  the  one  who  took  him  away." 

"Is  that  the  reason  you  were  frightened  ?" 

"Si,  senor.  And  yesterday  there  were  five  Americans  here  asking 
about  the  soldiers  in. the  town.  But  they  were  good  Americans  and 
very  polite." 

"F-i-v-e  A-m-e-r-i-c-a-n-s !     Can  you  tell  me  where  they  went?' 

"Abajo,  senor.     Down  that  road  as  far  as  T  could  see  them." 

"The  mission  of  Espada,  doubtless,"  mused  the  new  comer.     "J 
as  I  was  informed." 

He  thought  awhile,  then  addressed  the  men  who  had  remained 
listen : 

"Well,  my  good  fellows,  where  are  you  from?     Perhaps  dodging 
the  military.     Am  I  not  right?" 
"Si  senor,"  they  replied. 

"I  don't  blame  you  for  not  wanting  to  serve  with  a  lot  of  convi 
brought  here  to  destroy  the  liberties  of  the  people.     Why  don't  you 
help  drive  them  out?" 

The  men  looked  at  each  other,  but  were  silent.  The  horse 
regarded  them  with  contemptuous  pity,  then  turned  his  looks  down 
road. 

"For  via  de  mi  madre!"  he  exclaimed.     "If  that  cloud  of  dust 
does  not  mean  something  I  am  mistaken.     Here,  Locaria,  hold 
rein  until  I  see  what  it  means." 


T  vy  WL 

man 

""- 

ust 

• 


GUY  RAYMOND.  181 

So  saying,  he  dismounted  and  darted  into!  the  mission.  A  mo- 
ment later  he  was  looking  .from  the  parapet  in  the  direction  of  the 
dust  rising  in  the  distance.  He  soon  descended  and  relieved  the 
woman  if  her  charge. 

"What  did  you  see,  senor  ?" 

"The  army  of  liberty.  The  Americans  will  soon  be  here,  Locaria. 
But  where  are  those  two  fellows  ?" 

"Gone.     They  made  off  as  soon  as  you  entered  the  mission/' 

"But,  senor,  will  the  Americans  harm  us?" 

"Fear  not,  Locaria,  they  are  our  friends." 

"Friends !     They  come  to  fight  Mexicans." 

"But  Mexicans  stole  your  brother  from  you." 
they  would  not?" 
They  will  get  him  back  for  you." 
>ue  buena  gente." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

[anuel  Ruiz  did  not  remain  long  chatting  with  Locaria  before 
his  solution  of  the  cans*1  of  tin-  <lis1:in<  cloud  of  dust  proved  to  be 
thr1  true  one.  The  ninetv  Texans,  under  Fannin  and  Bowie,  were 
feoon  drawn  up  in  line  in  rear  of  the  mission,  with  Ruiz  in  conversation 
with  the  leaders.  The  gallant  Mexican  was  acquainted  with  many 
of  the  Texans.  and  among  them  was  Captain  Bowie.  The  latter  was 
apparently  well  pleased  to  meet  him  and  plied  him  with  questions 
in  regard  to  the  strength  of  the  garrison  in  the  town,  and  upon  other 
matters  pertinent  to  its  coming  investment.  Ruiz  was  able  to  inform 
him  on  many  points,  but  the  result  was  anything  but  satisfactory  to 
the  cherished  hopes  of  carrying  the  place  by  assault.  The  whole 
army,  on  the  ground  after  the  arrival  of  the  main  body  would  not 
number  more  than  eight  hundred  men.  It  had  little,  if  any,  trans- 
portation, no  commissariat,  insufficient  ammunition,  was  armed  with 
every  conceivable  style  and  caliber  of  guns,  and  no  tents,  even  for 
the  field  hospital.  It  would  be  hazardous  to  attempt  an  assault  with 
such  appointments,  while  a  seige,  without  cannon,  save  two  light 
twelve  pounders,  and  no  military  chest  whence  to  draw  the  funds 
needed,  even  to  supply  the  simple  \vanis  and  absolute  necessities  of 
an  inactive  camp,  whose  monotony  and  leisure  so  illy  accorded  with 
the  adventurous  spirit  of  the  volunteers,  was  out  of  the  question. 

"Ruiz,  do  you  think  we  can  capture  the  place  with  eight  hundred 
boys  like  these?"  asked  Bowie. 

"That  number  of  brave  men  can  do  wonders." 


182  GUY  RAYMOND. 

i 

"My  opinion  is  that  an  assault  is  the  thing.  A  seige  should  not 
be  thought  of  for  a  moment,  with  the  poor  fix  our  men  are  in.  Why 
half  of  them  would  not  stay." 

"Captain  Bowie,  let  us  ride  around  here  and  select  a  camp,"  sug- 
gested Fannin. 

"Come  with  us,  Buiz." 

The  ground  chosen  was  in  the  edge  of  the  wood  where  the  friendly 
bluff  would  afford  ample  protection  against  the  attack  of  a  superior 
force.  Here  the  two  commanders  decided  to  await  the  arrival  of 
General  Austin.  As  there  were  no  signs  of  activity  among  the  Mex- 
icans, a  chain  of  sentinels  extending  from  the  mission  and  along  the 
open  space  to  the  wood  was  supposed  to  constitute  the  requisite  pre- 
caution to  guard  against  surprise.  A  party  of  observation  sent  out 
towards  the  town  were,  ere  long,  seen  to  be  slowly  retiring  before  the 
enemy's  pickets,  exchanging  shots  as  they  retreated.  A  dozen  men 
were  dispatched  to  the  relief  of  the  retiring  Texans,  who,  thus  re- 
inforced, drove  back  their  assailants  to  the  little  white  house  where 
they  were  first  discovered.  After  an  hour's  skirmishing,  in  which 
the  Texans  held  at  bay  the  first  force  largely  augmented  by  additional 
numbers  sent  to  their  support  from  the  garrison,  the  firing  ceased  as 
if  by  mutual  consent,  and  each  party  retired  to  their  respective  lines. 
The  men  returned  to  camp  elated  at  their  success  in  having  replus 
a  greatly  superior  force. 

The  close  proximity  of  the  enemy  in  force  rendered  necessary  tl 
issuance  of  orders  confining  the  men  to  the  bounds  of  the  camp, 
unless  specially  detailed  for  duties  whose  performance  required  them 
to  pass  beyond   its  limits.     A   squad   was  sent  across   the  river   to 
slaughter  beef  for  the  army  and  to  scout  the  country  between  the  foi 
and  the  town,  to  discover  any  movement  that  the  enemy  might  attem] 
to  make  on  that  flank. 

In  the  camp  itself  the  men  busied  themselves  in  accumulate 
fuel  for  the  night,  which  promised  to  be  cold,  despite  the  moderating 
temperature;  in  caring  for  their  animals  and  in  making  ready  for  a] 
emergency  that  might  call  for  the  use  of  arms  and  the  display 
desperate  valor.     It  was  a  body  of  individual  heroes.     Each  felt  that 
success  depended  on  his  own  action  and  example.     By  noon  the  camp 
was  well  established.     The  strict  orders  of  the  commanders  had  been 
obeyed,  and  it  would  have  required  a  near  approach  of  the  enemy's 
scouts  to  have  determined  that  a  body  of  near  a  hundred    men   lax- 
close  to   the  mission,   hidden   as   they    \\civ    in    the   depression 
screened  by  the  leafy  panoply  of  ilie  wood.     Tin1  scnirirs  did  not 
pose  themselves  unnecessarily  to  view,  while  their  range  of  visic 


i 


GUY  RAYMOND.  183 

swept  the  plateau  for  a  thousand  yards.  A  peep  over  the  bluff  would 
have  disclosed  the  camp  made  up  of  mess  fires,  around  which  the 
individuals  were  ranged  in  all  the  abandon  of  posture  and  careless 
ease  or  exceptional  occupation,  called  forth  by  deferred  performance 
of  duty  or  by  anticipated  necessity.  The  absence  of  tents  detracted 
from  its  military  appearance.  A  half  score  of  guns  resting  there 
against  a  tree;  here  a  half  dozen  powder  horns  depending  from  a 
limb;  water  gourds,  canteens,  now  and  then  a  coffee  pot  close  by  a 
fire;  saddles  strewn  about  on  the  ground,  or  used  to  pillow  the  heads 
of  recumbent  forms  stretched  lazily  upon  blankets,  made  up  a  scene 
that  would  have  rewarded  the  observer,  who,  if  a  student  of  human 
nature,  would  have  had  ample  matter  for  mental  dissection  and  with 
which  to  compare  ideals  of  character.  The  excitement  incident  to  the 
morning  skirmish  and  the  opening  campaign  formed  a  Qopious  fund 
whence  to  draw  topics  for  conversation. 

Our  mess  had  early  concluded  all  necessary  duties  and  the  late 
afternoon  found  its  members  in  excellent  shape  for  passing  the  ap- 
proaching night.  Karnes  had  been  detailed  for  guard  duty,  but  in 
the  absence  of  strict  military  regulation,  tlie  guard  possessed  no  more 
autonomy  than  the  list  containing  the  names  of  the  detail,  and  the 
members  were  summoned  to  their  posts  whenever  the  relief  was  ready 
to  make  the  rounds.  Hucio  and  Smith  had  gone  with  the  party  after 
beef  and  had  not  yet  returned.  Around  the  fire  Tip  Hamilton  was  the 
most  conspicuous  figure.  He  had  not  been  in  Texas  long  enough 
to  spoil  the  handsome  blue  of  his  coat,  that  formed  such  a  contrast 
with  his  light  drab  pants.  The  lustre  of  the  black  satin  vest 
with  its  double  row  of  buttons  bespoke  him  a  fresh  importation  from 
the  States,  unassisted  by  his  boots,  whose  red  tops  reached  far  down 
towards  the  instep.  He  reclined  upon  his  blanket  with  the  upper 
part  of  his  body  resting  on  his  elbow,  a  cheerful  expression  indicating 
that  he  had,  as  usual,  accommodated  himself  to  surounding  circum- 
stances. Mr.  Trigg  was  seated  upon  a  broad  stump,  with  elbows  on 
lii's  knees,  drawing  consolation  from  the  bowl  of  a  short-stemmed 
pipe,  and  puffing  whatever  of  care  he  felt  into  the  realms  of  ether 
nlon.ir  with  the  whiffs  of  smoke  that  escaped  his  lips.  Jones  sat  near 
him  On  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  which  had  been  felled  from  the  stump 
mid  re-ted  his  back  against  a  limb  that  forked  conveniently  near. 
He  had  his  hat  lowered,  well  shading  his  face,  but  not  so  depressed 
that  lie  eonld  not  see  his  friend  Hamilton  opposite.  Karnes  was 
-landing  to  the  right  of  J.ones,  examining  his  gun,  having  just  come 
on"  liis  post  near  the  mission.  Nalhan  Eoach  was  visible  in  the  dis- 
tance approaching  the  group,  laden  with  several  gourds  and  canteens 
that  swung  by  their  straps  and  strings  from  his  shoulders. 


184  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"Karnes,  where  did  that  Mexican  spring  from  who  is  up  there  at 
headquarters?"  asked  Jones. 

"He  has  been  only  three  or  four  days  out  of  town.  Capt.  Bowie 
knows  him  and  has  got  considerable  information  from  him  about  the 
strength  of  the  garrison  and  the  kind  of  troops  we  have  got  to  fight." 

"He  is  recreant  to  his  race  if  his  errand  is  not  to  mislead  we  noble 
Texans,"  said  Hamilton,  grandiloquently. 

"Hamilton's  on  the  spout  agin',  is  he?"  said  Nathan,  coming  up 
and  commencing  to  unload.  "Here's  water  for- a  million.  Ef  any 
more's  wanted,  why  Mister  Jones  or  Mr.  Hamilton  will  fetch  it,  ef 
I  ain't  mistaken." 

"Now,  Mr.  Roach,  you  have  spoiled  it  all.  We  were  only  just 
now  discussing  your  many  virtues  and  lauding  the  lamb-like  resig- 
nation you  displayed  when  it  fell  to  your  lot  to  fill  these  vessels  with 
water.  It  was  not  I  who  proposed  to  draw  lots  to  see  upon  whom 
should  fall  this  duty.  No,  Mr.  Roach,  not  I ;  but  Jones — Mr.  Jones — 
of  India,  who  stated  that  such  a  practice  obtained  in  that  dependency 
of  Great  Britain  among  the  veterans  of  the  East  India  company. 
Jones  is  a  great  trickster,  Mr.  Roach.  All  characters  like  him,  so 
impregnated  with  the  basic  element  of  romance,  must  necessarily  1x3 
tricky,  and  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  there  were  much  color  in  the 
charge  that  he  tricked  you  into  drawing  the  short  straw." 

"Ef  I  thought  he  put  up  a  job  on  me,  I'd  smash  Mr.  Jones  of 
India,  as  you  call  him,"  said  Nathan,  regarding  Jones  doubtingly. 

"It  is  wrong — very  wrong — to  put  off  everything  on  a  good  natured 
comrade,   and   all  through  trickery,"   said   Hamilton,  -with   assu 
gravity.     "I  could  not  stand  it." 

"I   don't  mind   going  for   water,  but  I   want   the   drawin'   do 
fair." 

"It  was  fair,  Roach;  don't  mind  him,"  interrupted  Jones. 

"It  is  the  second  time  he  has  drawn  the  short  straw  and  we  hav 
drawn  only  twice.  Jones,  you  know  you  said  it  was  a  trick  of  Lord 
Dalrymple's  command.  Own  up  now  and  play  no  more  tricks  on 
Roach.  Don't  you  know,  Nathan,  that  he  was  talking  of  a  rule 
Lord  Dalrymple's  up  at  the  powder  house.?" 

"I  do,  by  jingo,"  said  Nathan,  springing  for  Jones.     "That  prov 
it,  dad  blast  your  picture;  for  you  know  you  said  somethin'  'bout 
Rimple's  rule,  and  you  was  hatchin'  it  up  (lien  to  make  me  tote  water." 

Jones  rolled  off  the  log  on  the  side  opposite  Nathan  as  the  latter 
darted  at  him,  his  laughter  at  Hamilton's  introduction  of  an  irrele- 
vant circumstance  to  prove  his  charge  of  trickery,  turning  into  veri 
able  apprehension  when  he  heheld  the  menacing  action  of  the  victi 


t 


GUY  RAYMOND.  185 

Tlio  others  had  enjoyed  the  joke  being  played  on  the  backwoodsman, 
hut,  when  the  latter  sprang  to  avenge  the  supposed  indignity  prac- 
ticed upon  him,  they  took  in  the  necessity  of  interposing  to  protect 
the  East  Indian  from  serious  bodily  harm.  Nathan  had  bounded 
over  the  log  and  planted  both  feet  upon  the  prostrate  Jones,  who  pro- 
tcsied  loudly,  but  in  vain.,  that  Lord  Dalrymple's  rule  had  nothing 
in  connection  with  the  drawing  of  lots.  Karnes  seized  his  old  friend 
by  one  arm  and  Hamilton,  taking  hold  of  the  other,  they  pulled  the 
irate  Eoach  back  to  the  fire. 

"Nathe,  you  should  not  fight  for  such  little  provocation,"  said 
Karnes. 

"Didn't  he  get  up  Rimple's  rule  on  me?" 

"Perhaps  I  was  mistaken,"  said  Hamilton.  "Sorry  if  I  was 
wrong.  But  Jones  did  not  explain,  and  I  was  misled  perhaps  by 
interest  in  Mr.  Roach  to  interpret  the  rule  to  allude  to  drawing  lots." 

"I  don't  intend  to  be  imposed  on." 

"I'll  acknowledge  I  was  wrong,  Roach.     Let's  all  make  friends." 

"If  you  was  wrong,  Hamilton,  all  right,  I'll  let  it  drop,"  said 
Nathan,  cooling  off. 

"Yes,  kiss  and  make  up,  as  the  children  say." 

"I  don't  like  these  practical  jokes  a  bit,  and  I  will  just  serve  notice 
on  Tip  Hamilton  that  I  won't  stand  it.  My  side  is  bruised  terribly 
by  ihat  fellow's  feet,"  and  Jones  seated  himself  with  his  hand  on  his 
ribs. 

"I  heard  ye  talking  about  saving  your  fighting  qualities  for  the 
Mexicans.  Now  be  after  following  your  own  advice  and  I  will 
warrant  ye  ye'll  have  enough  fighting  afore  forty-eight  hours,"  said 
Mr.  Trigg,  who  had  remained  on  his  stump  smoking,  but  secretly 
enioying  the  fun. 

At  this  juncture  the  corporal,  with  the  rlief,  appeared,  descending 
the  bluff,  with  an  old  Mexican  in  charge,  who  bent  under  the  weight 
of  a  sack,  whose  contents  were  not  discernable.  The  squad  marched 
up  and  halting,  the  corporal  pulled  forward  the  old  man  with  the 
sack,  who  stood  smiling  and  grimacing,  with  his  doffed  hat  held 
before  him  and  his  head  obsequiously  bent,  as  he  timidly  returned 
the  glances  of  the  new  batch  of  Tejanos. 

"Who  have  you  got  now,  Waters?"  asked  Karnes,  towards  whom 
the  corporal  seemed  to  be  pulling  the  prisoner. 

"That's  what  I  want  to  know,  Karnes.  This  old  Greaser  was 
raptured  on  post  number  three,  and  we  can't  understands  dinged 
Ihirig  he  says.  I  did  think  I  could  talk  a  little  of  their  lingo,  but 
this  old  fellow  gets  away  with  me." 


186  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"The  old  Mexican  cut  his  eye  at  Karnes,  as  if  to  read  his  fate 
in  that  individual's  expression,  his  own  countenance  further  disfigured 
by  a  grin  of  abject  submission.  As  Karnes  addressed  him  in  his  own 
tongue,  the  grin  subsided  until  his  ugly  physiognomy  betrayed  naught 
else  save  superlative  satisfaction. 

"De  donde  vienes,  y  que  haces  aqui  en  este  campo?" 

"Tengo  una  carta  por  el  commandante,  senor;  y  estos  piloncillas 
con  una  botilla  de  mescal,  que  manda  el  padre/'  replied  the  prisoner. 

"He  says,"  interrupted  Karnes,,  "that  he  has  a  letter  for  the  com- 
mander and  some  piloncillas  and  a  bottle  of  mescal,  sent  by  the 
priest." 

"An  envoy  extraordinary — with  presents,"  exclaimed  Hamilton. 
"The  bottle  of  mescal — is  good.  Produce  the  bottle,  old  Montezuma." 

The  Mexican  eyed  Hamilton  rather  distrustfully  as  this  was  said 
in  a  dramtic  manner  with  a  swaggering  step  or  two  towards  him. 

"Deja   me  ver  la  carta,"  said  Karnes. 

"Vuestra  Merced,  es  el  commandante  ?" 

"No,"  answered  Karnes,  in  Spanish.  "I  am  not  the  commander; 
but  I  would  like  to  see  the  address,  and  then  you  can  go  to  him." 

He  produced  the  letter,  which  proved  to  be  addressed  to  General 
Austin. 

"Now  for  the  bottle,"  said  Roach. 

"None  of  that,  Nathan.  The  contents  of  that  bottle  would  only 
increase  the  difficulties  of  an  individual  already  intoxicated  by  a 
superabundance  of  eccentricity." 

"Don't  talk  no  Mexican  to  me,  Hamilton ;  preach  to  the  pris'ner/' 

Karnes,  directing  the  fellow  to  produce  the  bottle,  he  lowered 
his  sack  and,  opening  it,  disclosed  what  was  demanded. 

The  corporal  here  interposedi  and  thanking  Karnes  for  having 
acted  as  interpreter,  he  marched  his  squad  and  his  prisoner  towards 

headquarters. 

*  *  *  * 

"Hello,  Perry!     Where  you  been?" 

The  youthful  member  of  the  mess  was  thus  addressed  by  Karnes, 
as  he  came  in  sight  on  the  bluff  above.  The  next  moment  he  had 
descended  and  stood  among  them. 

"I  have  been  all  the  way  back  to  where  you  camped  last  night." 

"And  for  what?"  asked  two  or  three. 

"To  take  dispatches  to  General  Austin." 

"Is  the  army  there  already?"  asked  Mr.  Trigg. 

"No,  sir.  Captain  Bowie  left  a  co.urier  there  this  morning  to 
wait  for  the  papers  and  take  them  on.  I  suppose  he  wanted  the 


GUY  RAYMOND.  187 

general  to  get  them  as  soon  as  possible,  for  we  had  orders  not  to 
spare  horseflesh." 

"Perry  is  yarning,  for  his  horse  is  hack  there  with  mine,"  said 
Jones. 

"Now;  Jones,"  interposed  Hamilton,,  "don't  you  imagine  that 
Perry  has  your  failing." 

"The  captain  furnished  me  his  own  horse,"  Perry  explained. 

"Something  important  and  urgent  must1  have  been  disclosed  by 
that  Mexican  this  morning,  and  Bowie  has  sent  to  hurry  up  the 
lagging  rear." 

"Do  you  mean  the  Mexican,  Ruiz,  Mr.  Hamilton?" 

"His  name  is  a  sealed  mystery  to  me,  Perry;  hut  that  he  is  a 
Greaser  of  the  bon  ton  variety  I  am  quite  certain." 

"I  think  that  Ruiz  caused  the  captain  to  send  for  General  Austin 
sooner  than  he  intended.  I  happened  to  be  near  and  he  made  me  get 
his  horse,  while  he  dashed  off  a  few  lines  which  he  called  the  dis- 
patches." 

"Somethin's  up,  by  hookey!"  exclaimed    Nathan. 

Perry  looked  at  the  latter  rather  curiously,  when  Hamilton  re- 
marked : 

"Mr.  Roach,  I  do  not  believe  you  know  our  youngster.  Perry, 
this  is  Mr.  Roach,  whose  Christian  name  is  Nathan — signifying  a 
gift.  Dame  Fortune  bestowed  him  upon  us  temporarily,  but  we 
perceived  that,  beneath  a  rough  exterior,  there  dwelt  intrinsic  worth, 
that  our  diamond  gift  but  lacked  the  polisher's  hand  to  disclose 
priceless  scintillations  of  character.  And  so  we  kept  him  with  us, 
and  henceforward,  through  the  rigor  of  camp  life  and  the  vicissitudes 
of  war,  he  is  to  be  our  messmate  and  comrade.  Mr.  Roach,  this  is 
Perry  Asbury,  the  youngest  soldier  in  the  army,  but  for  all  that — 
a  veteran." 

"I  saw  Mr.  Roach  the  day  he  joined  us  on  the  Cibolo,"  said  Perry, 
shaking  the  other's  hand. 

"S'pose  I  seen  you,  too,  Mister  Perry,  but  I  didn't  l^now  nobody 
Inn.  Karnes.  But  look  here,  my  friend,  how  can  you  make  out  my 
name  means  a  gift?" 

"Nathan  is  a  Hebrew  word  and  means  gift  in  our  language," 
said  Hamilton,  with  a  pedantic  air. 

"You  knows  a  power,  cert'in.  You  don't  talk  'Merican  like 
common  folks.  Ef  I  could  read  I  s'pose  I  could  understand  you 
more'n  I  do.  But  I  can  trot  you  through  on  a  shoot,  or  a  trail,  or 
fi^lifin'  (In-Jiscis,  and  don't  you  forgit  it — w-h-o-o-p !" 

Nathan  gave  the  whoop  in  Indian  style  and  executed  a  revolution 


188  GUY  RAYMOND. 

sidewise  on  his  hands,  and  landing  on  his  feet  right  in  front  oi 
Hamilton,  made  a  hideous  grimace  directly  in  the  latter's  face. 
Hamilton  patted  him  on  the  back,  saying: 

"You'll  do,  Nathan.     You're  a  diamond  of  the  roughest  water." 

"I  know  how  to  pack  the  stuff  in  canteens — but  lots  or  not  lots— 
rimples  or  no  rimples — you  an'  Jones  will  have  to  fetch  it  nex' 
time." 

"Did  you  hear  the  captain  say  if  it's  here  we  are  to  fight  if  the 
Mexicans  come  out?"  asked  Mr.  Trigg  of  Perry. 

"I  heard  him  and  Captain  Fannin  and  that  fellow  Ruiz  talk 
about  this  bluff  being  a  good  breastwork  to  protect  our  men  if  they 
came  out  in  force." 

"It  is  too  high,  if  it  is  to  be  a  breastwork.  If  we  should  want 
to  fire  over  it,  we'd  have  a  mighty  poor  footing,  steep  as  it  is." 

"That  puts  an  idea  in  my  head,"  said  Jones,  who  had  got  over 
his  bruise. 

So  saying,  he  picked  up  the  mess  hatchet  and  going  to  the  foot 
of  the  bluff,  he  began  to  chop  into  its  side. 

"What  the  nation  is  he  a-doin'?"  queried  Nathan. 

"There  is  something  in  Jones  besides  lying,"  said  Hamilton. 

"It  is  a  good  idea." 

"It's  steps  he  is  cutting,"  said  Mr.  Trigg.  "Every  mother's  son 
in  the  camp  should  do  the  same  thing." 

"Steps  for  every  two,"  suggested  Karnes.     "One  to  fire  while 
other  is  down  loading." 

"Fll  cut  mine  right  now,"  said    Perry.     "This  long  knife  is  j 
the  thing  for  it,"  and  he  began  his  work  a  few  feet  from  Jones. 

Before  many  minutes  the  members  of  the  mess  had  steps  cut  in 
a  half  dozen  places,  sufficiently  high  up  to  look  well  over  the  bank. 
At  Mr.  Trigg-'s  suggestion,  Karnes  was  sent  as  a  committee  of  one 
to  give  the  idea  to  the  officers,  and  the  consequence  was  that  before 
dark  Jones'  idea  became  an  accomplished  fact,  all  along  the  line. 

The  scouters  from  the  right  bank  of  the  river  returned  with  an 
ample  supply  of  beef,  reporting  all  quiet  in  that  direction.  A  picket 
was  placed  at  the  ford,  to  prevent  a  surprise,  and  night  spread  her 
mantle  over  the  Texan  camp.  The  fires  glowed  through  the  timber, 
while  the  voices  and  laughter  of  the  men  could  be  heard  as  they 
cooked  their  rations  of  fresh  beef  and  talked  of  the  probable  hap- 
penings of  the  morrow.  The  sentries  walked  their  posls  on  the 
plateau,  keeping  viligant  watch  in  the  direction  of  the  enemy,  braced 
by  the  frosty  air  of  a  still  and  cloudless  night  that,  despite  the 
brilliant  firmament,  rendered  the  vision  so  uncertain  a  shadow  might 


GUY  EAYMOND.  189 

be  turned  into  a  prowling  foe,  or  a  bush  magnified  into  a  nocturnal 
spectre. 

It  was  the  same  day  on  which  the  Texans  encamped  at  Conception, 
that  Guy  witnessed  the  passage  of  the  Mexican  cavalry  down  Carcel 
street  to  the  river  ford.  The  approach  of  the  revolutionists  had 
become  known  to  the  authorities  and  this  force  was  posted  south  of 
the  town  on  the  left  bank  of  the  river.  On  a  peninsula  formed  by 
a  circuit  of  the  stream  and  opposite  the  southeast  corner  of  the 
plaza  a  body  of  infantry  was  mustered  on  the  forenoon  of  the  day 
in  question.  A  general  officer  with  a  numerous  staff,  gaily  uniformed, 
all  mounted  on  prancing  ponies,  dashed  through  the  narrow  streets 
and  turning  to  the  ford  crossed  to  where  the  infantry  was  under- 
going an  inspection.  The  arrival  of  the  mounted  party  terminated 
the  inspection  in  a  salute,  when  a  consultation  ensued  between  the 
newly  arrived  official  and  his  officers,  in  which  they  were  joined  by 
the  commander  of  the  infantry.  During  a  discussion  pertaining  to 
the  presence  of  the  rebels  in  the  vicinity,  a  mounted  man,  in  the 
ordinary  garb  of  a  civilin  of  the  lower  class,  rode  near,  and  saluting, 
stated  that  he  desired  to  speak  to  Colonel  Ugartachia. 

"Tell  him  to  approach,"  said  the  colonel. 

"Who  is  he?"  asked  General  Cos. 

"I  am  a  sergeant,  sir,  of  Captain  Castinado's  company,  and  was 
detailed,  as  a  spy  to  find  out  the  movements  of  the  rebels.  I  have 
gained  important  information  and  wish  to  communicate  it  to  your 
worship." 

"Por  dios!     Cut  short  your  preface  and  give  us  the  news,  man." 

"The  rebels  are  approaching  Concepcion  in  force  and  perhaps 
their  advance  is  already  there." 

"How  know  you  this,  sir?" 

"I  saw  them  in  the  distance  with  my  two  eyes.  Myself  and  the 
man  detailed  to  go  with  me  left  our  horses  in  the  wood  and  while 
we  were  questioining  a  woman  who  lives  at  the  mission,  one  Eui/,  a 
Mexican,  rode  up  and  while  he  was  talking  to  us  about  joining  the 
rebels  and  advising  us  to  help  drive  out  the  national  troops,  \\c 
suddenly  saw  the  dust  in  the  road  about  a  mile  below.  The  dust 
was  caused  by  the  march  of  the  rebels." 

"Their  number?    Do  you  know  it?"  asked  the  colonel. 

"About  two.  hundred." 

"And  Euiz—  did  he  meet  them?" 

"We  returned  without  delay  to   our  horses   and   made   haste  to 


"W 


hat  else  said  this  Euiz?" 


190  GUY  BAYMOND. 

"He  said  our  soldiers  were  convicts  and  were  brought  here 
destroy  the  liberties  of  the  people." 

General  Cos  called  to  an  aid,  and  after  a  minute's  deliberation, 
said  hastily: 

"Lieutenant!    Order  Castanado's  company  to  reinforce  the  picke 
on  the  mission  road  at  once.     This  infantry  battalion  will  be  held 
in  readiness  for  instant  action,  with  cooked  rations,  prepared  for  any 
forward  movement  which  developments  may  render,  necessary." 

Then  turning  to  Colonel  Ugartaehia,  he  said : 

"Colonel,  it  will  be  well  to  have  an  immediate  inspection  of  the 
entire  garrison  and  the  whole  available  cavalry  force  put  into  the 
best  shape  for  service  by  morning.  These  Americans  mean  mischief.*' 

The  lieutenant  galloped  away  to  carry  out  the  orders  of  his  chief, 
while  the  latter  and  his  staff  rode  in  the  direction  of  the  Alamo. 

"Ugartachia,"  said  the  general.  "I  would  like  to  find  out  if 
Austin  is  with  this  force.  If  he  is  present,  we  have  the  whole  rebel 
crew  to  fight.  How  can  I  manage  it?" 

"How  would  a  flag  of  truce  do?" 

"They  would  only  meet  it  by  one  in  charge  of  a  subaltern,  and 
he  would  not  give  the  information  unless  by  accident." 

"Let  us  send  the  old  fellow,  who  sells  piloncillas  next  to  my 
headquarters,  with  a  present  to  Austin  of  some  of  his  stock  in  trade. 
He  is  so  old  they  would  never  hurt  him;  and  he  is  so  avaricious 
will  undertake  it  to  get  paid  for  a  score  of  his  sweetmeats." 

"A  present  from  whom?     They  would  imagine  the  things  we 
poisoned." 

"Send  it  in  the  name  of  the  padre,  Ignacio.  He  is  not  a  bellig- 
erent, and  is  acquainted  with  the  rebel  chief." 

"An  excellent  idea!     TJgastachia,  you  put  it  into  execution." 


irted 


Guy  had  not  lain  long  on  his  bed,  thinking  of  the  news  impa: 
by  Josefa  in  regard  to  Beatrice  Navarro's  engagement,  when  his  door 
opened  and  the  voice  of  Father  Ignacio  called  to  him. 

"What  is  it,  Father?" 

"Why  have  you  come  to  this  cheerless  place  without  a  fire,  when 
the  air  is  so  raw  ?  If  the  fellow  is  not  lying  here  on  his  bed  in  the 
dark!  Come  to  the  sitting  room,  where  there  is  a  grand  fire,  and 
nobody  to  keep  me  company  but  prosy  Father  Nicolas.  Come  do 
and  help  me  poke  him  into  activity." 

"All  right,"  said  Guy,  rising.     "I  just  threw  myself  down  he 
for  a  moment,  fully  intending  to  join  you  after  a  while." 

"Getting  homesick,  and  wanting  to  join  your  people,  no  doub 


GUY  KAYMOND.  191 

You  had  bettor  stay  with  me  ;m<i  si  inly  Tor  the  priesthood,  than  be 
\viili  them,  murdering  our  pickets  ;m<l  now  about  to  lay  siege  to 
San  Anionio.  Come  along,  child,  I  know  you  arc  cold." 

The  priest  preceded  (juy  to  Hie  sitting  room,  where  Father  Nicolas 
sat,  looking  v;ic;intly  inio  the  fire.  lie  rose  awkwardly,  greeting  the 
young  American,  hni  not  offering  his  hand. 

"Where    have    you    been    all    this    afternoon?''    continued    Father 
Ignacie.,    and    without,    waiting   for    a    reply,    "I    concluded    you    had 
rted  after  hearing  ihat   those  daredevil  countrymen  of  yours  were 
in  force  at  Concepciou  and  were  firing  on  the  national  troops/' 

"I  am  yet  on  parole,  sir.  I  trust  the  fact  had  escaped  your 
ory,  when  you  concluded  (hat  I  had  done  an  act  to  violate  it." 
Oh!  Muchacho  mio,  I  was  just  joking.  I  have  every  faith  in 

y'g   honor." 

I    have    heard    noihing   of   any    fighting   today,"   said    ("Juy,   in   a 
softer   tone.      "If   there,   lias   heen.    I    should    like   to   hear  the  news.'' 
re  '-ould  you   have  heen,  sure  enough.     It  is  all  over  town." 
I    walked    home   with    the    Senorita   do  la   Torre   and   spent  the 
oon  there." 
'a. the i1    lo-nacio   knitted    his   hrows   at   the  reply. 

\ou  know  her!  Two  unbelievers.  Poor,  poor  Josefa;  pedida! 
perdida!  Hut  never  mind  about  Josefa;  I  must  tell  you  of  the 
cM-itoincnt.  (general  Austin  is  supposed  to  bo  at  Conception;  at 
any  rate  there  is  quite  a  force  there  and  most  of  the  afternoon  there 
lias  boon  skirmishing  between  the  opposing  armies.  Two  or  three 
r  troops  have  been  wounded — one  quite  seriously." 
ery  seriously !"  interrupted  Father  Nicolas.  "I  gave  him  the 
acraments  an  hour  MITO  and  he  may  not,  live,  through  the  night." 
War!  War!  It  is  terrible,"  said  Father  Ignacio,  leaning  back 
is  chair  and  looking  reflect  ingly  into  the  blazing  logs. 
'And  yet  your  people  are  ever  waging  it  among  themselves,  and 
internecine  warfare  is  the  most  horrible  of  all;  yet  it  is  maintained 
by  some  of  our  philosophers  that  all  wars  are  great  civilizers  and 
that  their  ultimate  effects  have  been  to  improve  mankind.  Your 
church  has  sanctioned  conquests  where  butchery  succeded  butchery. 
until  race  annihilation  left  little  obstacle  to  Christian  supremacy. 
I)  d  the  church  consider  terrible  the  means  employed?" 

If  the  church  has  sanctioned  such  it  was  God's  act.     God  speaks 
gh  an  infallible  church." 

hen  I  suppose  it  is  God's  will  that  the  unbelieving  Tcxans  in 
ruggle  be  wiped  up  by  the  national  troops." 
'Very  likely — very  likely." 


192  GUY  KAYMOND. 

"But  suppose,  Father,  that  the  Texans  succeed  in  driving  th 
national  troops  across  the  Eio  Grande." 

"God  permits  the  devil  to  triumph  occasionally;  why  not  th 

rebels?" 

"In  the  interests  of  liberty  and  civilization,  it  is  to  be  hoped  then, 
that  He  will  be  in  His  occasional  humor." 

"You  may  not  hope  for  the  highest  civilization  until  you  arrive 
at  the  true  faith." 

"If  you  mean  that  the  highest  civilization  exists  where  your 
religion  has  exercised  the  fullest  sway,  then  my  reading  has  been 
to  little  purpose,  if  you  are  correct.  Take  your  own  country — Spain 
—for  an  example.  With  all  her  prestige  and  golden  opportunities 
she  has  retrograded  until  she  has  become  a  third-class  power.  Super- 
stition made  her  indifferent  to  progress  and  controlled  her  kings, 
.who  owed  allegiance  to  Home.  Her  greatness  and  achievements 
rested  upon  the  mysticism,  that,  for  every  effect,"  found  a  supernatural 
cause  and  flowed  from  the  king  to  the  people,  like  the  principles  of 
a  deductive  system  whose  defects  are  hidden  in  the  glow  of  a  priori 
conceptions." 

"What  is  the  matter  with  Father  Nicolas?  I  believe  he  is  count- 
ing the  logs  in  the  ceiling  to  keep  from  hearing  Senor  Raymond's 
homily." 

"No,  Father  Ignacio,  I  was  praying  for  the  senor." 

"Well,  senor,  how  did  you  find  out  our  superstition?  You  are  a 
young  reasoner  and  I  will  make  all  allowances." 

"From  history.  You  and  I  differ  in  the  definition  of  superstition. 
I  term  it  superstition,  when  the  people  of  Madrid,  instead  of  resort- 
ing to  sanitary  methods  to  abate  the  ravages  of  a  plague,  had 
recourse  to  religious  processions  and  outdoor  masses;  leaving  the 
reeking  filth  of  their  streets  to  infect  the  atmosphere  and  render 
more  fatal  the  scourge  caused  by  their  own  neglect.  I  call  it  super- 
stition when  a  king  of  Spain,  instigated  by  episcopal  dictation,  forbid 
the  introduction  of  Newton's  beautiful  philosophy  into  the  Spanish 
universities,  remarking  that  the  prayerbook  was  good  enough  phil- 
osophy for  the  Spanish  students." 

"My  dear  child,  God  is  all  powerful,  you  must  remember,  and  as 
he  found  it  easy  to  create  this  universe  by  his  mere  will,  how  easy, 
if  he  desired,  would  it  be  to  arrest  a  plague.  In  the  case  you  alluded 
to  he  scourged  the  people  until  his  anger  been  mo  appeased,  and  Hu- 
rl ifficulty  came  to  an  end.  In  regard  In  the  teaching  of  philosophies 
in  the  universities  of  Spain,  the  Holy  Church  is  always  careful  to 
investigate  all  new  theories  to  discover  if  they  contain  principles 


GUY  RAYMOND.  193 

adverse  to  dogmas.     She  accepts  the  good  and  rejects  the  bad." 

"Being  infallible,"  suggested  Guy,  "she  should  readily  discern 
the  merits  of  a  theory  without  subjecting  it  to  the  test  of  exami- 
nation. Examination  necessitates  reasoning,  and  to  reason  is  to 
depend  upon  human  judgment  and  human  experience;  to  depend 
upon  human  experience  is  to  reason  synthetically  or  by  induction 
from  particulars  to  generals.  Inductively  considered,  your  religion 
and  civilization  would  both  be  condemned." 

'No  tienes  miedo !"   exclaimed    Father   Nicolas,   half   rising  and 
leaning  earnestly  towards  the  young  man.     "Are  you  not  afraid  to 
ilk  in  such  a  manner?" 

"Afraid!  Be  (juiet.  good  Nicolas.  This  boy  has  never  had 
istruction.  He  is  steeped  in  the  ignorance  of  heretical  education, 
kich  training  as  his  gives  him  no  advantage  over  the  aborigines,  for 
rhose  conversion  to  the  faith  these  missions  were  erected  by  the 
rood  fathers  of  our  order." 

"And  where,  good  Father,  are  these  aborigines  today?  The  Indian 
)f  the  pure  type  is  still  a  savage.  Those  who  succumbed  to  the  power 
)f  the  church  are  lost  in  the  mongrel  race,  that  possesses  a  ques- 
ionable  advantage  over  the  wild  tribes  in  all  that  pertains  to  true 
•ivili/ation." 

"The  lower  class  of  Mexicans,  I  admit,  are  unlettered;  but,  senor, 
ley  are  a  pious  people;  they  love  their  church  and  therefore  occupy 
most    essential   position    to  secure  their  happiness  hereafter.     A 
lome  in  heaven   is  vastly  more  important  than  the  highest  literary 
ittainments,  with  the  danger  of  lapsing  into  infidelity  like  yours." 
"The  senor  should  read  the  lives  of  the  saints  and  learn  of  the 
^reat  miracles  they  have  performed,"  said  Father  Nicolas. 

"I  have  a  volume  he  will  like  better,"  said  Father  Ignacio.    "It  is 
died  the  'Influences  of  Catholicity  on  Civilization/  r- 

"That  must  be  an  ingenuous  work  from  a  Catholic  standpoint," 
lid  Guy. 

Here  the  door  opened  and  Jose  appeared,  stating  that  a  messenger 
i ad  come  for  Father  Nicolas  to  attend  the  dying  soldier.  The  young 
i  lost  no  time  in  responding  to  the  call,  and  left  his  two  com- 
>anions  with  a  pleasant  good  night. 

"Will  he  be  gone  until  late?"  asked  Guy,  as  the  door  closed. 
"Who  knows?     A  priest  must  go  and  he  must  stay  as  long  as 
teeded.      Father   Nicolas    is    very    willing,   but  he   is   no   company, 
mor  Raymond.     His  mind  and  body  are  both  frail.     I  am  satisfied 
will  never  be  a  cardinal." 
"lie   said   he  had   given   this  soldier  the  last  sacraments.     If  I 


194  GUY  "RAYMOND. 

have  been  rightly  informed,  that   is  all   that  a   priest  can   do  for 
dying  man/' 

"That  is  all  true,  hut  the  poor  fellow  may  have  thought  of  a  si 
unconfessed.  It  would  not  do  to  die  with  a  fault  unconfessed,  wit 
a  priest  at  hand  to  give  absolution.  Perhaps  he  may  want  him  to  say 
prayers  for  the  dying.  This  revolution  is  going  to  be  a  bad,  bad 
affair,  Senor  Kaymond." 

"Did  you  learn  if  the  garrison   expects   an  immediate  attack?" 

"Attack!  General  Cos  has  already  ordered  a  movement,  to  com- 
mence early  in  the  morning,  that  will  no  doubt  result  in  the  capture 
of  those  fellows  at  Conception.  He  has  learned  their  position  and 
numbers  and  feels  confident." 

"The  Texans  will  be  hard  to  whip,  even  with  great  odds.  They 
have  the  advantage  of  strong  individualities  that  make  every  man  a 
leader.  It  would  not  surprise  me  if  you  and  Father  Nicolas  will 
have  your  hands  full  tomorrow,  giving  rousnlalion  to  the  wounded 
and  dying  victims  of  Texan  bullets." 

"Puede  ser,  puede  ser.  But  we  will  not  shrink  from  our  duty, 
senor." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 


The  moderated  temperature  brought  with  it  a  thick  fog,  whose 
floating  mists  hung  like  a  veil  over  mission  and  woodland,  retarding 
the  advancing  light  of  early  dawn,  enveloping  in  moisture  the  grass- 
covered  plateau  and  the  sylvan  foliage  overhanging  the  Texan  camp. 
The  pattering  drops  from  the  dripping  leaves,  the  cracking  of  a 
twig,  caused  by  the  movements  of  a  horse  browsing  near,  the  leap  of 
an  early  squirrel,  in  quest  of  his  morning  meal,  causing  a  rustle 
among  the  branches  of  a  pecan,  were  noises  greet  ing  the  first  strug- 
gling glimmers  from  the  east,  that  disclosed  the  bivouac  beyond  the 
bluff  with  its  blue  smoke  rising  among  the  trees,  scarcely  distin- 
guishable from  the  maze  of  vapor.  Around  the  dying  embers  of 
the  mess  fires  the  recumbent,  forms,  enveloped  in  blankets,  began 
one  by  one  to  move,  until  the  later  and  clearer  light  found  the  whol 
(amp  astir  and  busy  in  preparation. 

"Perry,  wake  up  that  la/y  Frenchman,"  said  Hamilton,  as  he 
came  up,  dragging  a  small  branch  of  deadwood,  that  an  urchin 
might  have  shouldered.  "Here  I  have  been  hunting  wood  since 
daylight,  and  he  wrapped  up  in  his  blanket.  Stir  him  up.  boy." 

IVrry    advanced    to    where    Dncio    ITalfen    lay,    as    described 
Hamilton,  and  pulling  awav  the  blanket,  shouted   to  him   to 


' 


GUT  RAYMOND.  1 '.'•"> 

Ducio  responded  with  a  vigorous  kick  that  struck  Perry  squarely 
in  the  stomach  and  sent  him  reeling  to  the  ground.  lie  followed 
up  the  kick  by  rising  and  springing  at  the  prostrate  boy,  with  the 
fury  of  a  beast;  but  before  he  could  reach  the  object  of  his  rage 
lie  was  felled  by  a  well  aimed  blow  on  the  temple,  from  the  brawny 
arm  and  ponderous  fist  of  Mr.  Trigg,  who,  having  witnessed  the 
cowardly  kick,  intervened  to  prevent  a  more  serious  sequel. 

"Perry,  is  it  much  hurt,  ye  are?"  asked  Mr.  Trigg,  as  he  bent 
>ver  the  boy. 

"He  had  the  breath  kicked  out  of  him,"  said  Hamilton.     "Don't 
see  he  is  just  getting  it  back  again  ?" 

"The  murderin'  devil!  He'd  best  keep  out  o'  my  way.  Perry! 
MTV  !  My  boy." 

IN  TIT  looked  up  at  the  good   old  Irishman. 
"I    MIII   a  little  hurt  here,"  lie  gasped,  placing  his  hand  on  his 
)mach. 
'The  dirty  devil!"  muttered  Mr.  Trigg,  scowling  at  Ducio,  who 

near  with  a  blood-stained  temple. 

"I'll  get  even  with  you — you  Irish   Hessian,"  said  Halfen. 
"Wait  'til  I  mind  the  boy  and    I'll   Im  after  teaching  you  a  bit 
manners." 

"What  in  the  name  of  the  incomprehensible  did  you  kick  that 
for?"  asked  Hamilton. 
"Don't  you  like  it?" 

"Now,  Sir  Ducio,  if  you  are  for  war  with  the  whole  mess,  it  is 
t  that  you  get  out  of  it.  I  told  Perry  to  awaken  you  and  it  was 
111  to  assault  him  as  you  did.  You  should  be  ashamed  of  it." 
don't  want  any  of  your  lecturing,  Tip  Hamilton.  I'd  have 
:ed  any  one  who  had  no  better  sense  than  to  strip  me  and  hallo 
my  ear." 

As  Ducio  said  this  he  walked  sulkily  away  and  seated  himself  at 
further  end  of  the  fallen  tree. 

Perry  had  so  far  recovered  that  he  was  sitting  up  and  breathing 
lite  regularly,  while  Mr.  Trigg  remained  by  him,  asking  him  fre- 
lenlly  how  he  was  feeling. 

'I  saw  a  man  laid  out  for  good  from  a  kick  no  worse  nor  tin's." 
"Donf  worry  about  me,  Mr.  Trigg,  for  I  feel  nearly  all  right 

i  in.     Ducio  was  half  asleep,  I  suppose,  and  didn't  mean  to  hurt 

)) 

"Didn't  ho,  though?  It's  flic  cluirgo.  ho  made  after  ye  was  down 
it  ye  should  V  seen.  My  list  il  was  that  saved  the  finishing  of 


196 


GUY  KAYMOND. 


t_j 

the 


ye.     A  wild  beast  couldn't  V  looked  worst  when  he  came  charging 
after  ye.     Didn't  mean  to  hurt  ye!" 

One — two — three — four  shots;  then  a  fusilade. 

The  shots  came  from  the  plateau,  close  at  hand,  just  over 
bluff.  The  magic  of  the  reports  produced  activity  in  the  camp. 
Through  the  timber,  along  the  line,  men  flew  to  their  guns ;  questions 
and  replies  were  shouted  back  and  forth  in  quick  succession.  The 
officers  hurried  to  the  bluff,  hastily  giving  orders  as  they  passed. 
Suddenly  a  man  sprang  over  the  embankment,  his  gun  in  one  hand 
and  his  powder  horn  in  the  other. 

It  was  Karnes.  The  men  greeted  him  with  a  cheer  and  a  shower 
of  questions. 

"It's  the  Greasers,"  he  said,  "and  the  damned  rescals  have  shot 
the  bottom  out  of  my  powder  horn." 

Karnes  had  been  placed  on  post  when  the  four  o'clock  relief  went 
the  rounds  and  had  the  honor  of  receiving  the  enemy.  They  fired  on 
him  just  as  they  became  visible  through  the  fog.  He  returned  their 
fire — once  with  his  rifle,  and  again  with  his  pistol,  in  answer  to  the 
volley.  They  retired  after  his  pistol  shot  and  he  retreated  to  the 
camp.  Certain  that  the  enemy  was  present  in  force,  the  two  com- 
manders ranged  their  men  under  the  bluff,  with  instructions  to  mount 
the  steps  they  had  cut  in  its  side  until  their  heads  would  appear 
above  it  and  their  eyes  could  sweep  the  plateu  beyond.  The  Mexican 
field  music  could  be  distinctly  heard  and  an  occasional  sound  of  a 
voice,  as  a  command  was  probably  shouted  preparing  for  an  advance. 

The  Texans  were  on  the  alert  and  eager  for  the  fray.  Perhaps 
thirty  minutes  elapsed  before  the  enemy  gave  any  account  of  him 

"Here  they  come!" 

It  was  Jones  who  spoke. 

"Where?"  asked  Hamilton. 

"Are  you  blind  ?" 

"My  optics  are  splendid." 

"Look  there !" 

"So!   I  see  them." 

"The  dirty  yaller-bellies !"  exclaimed  Nathan,  ten  yards  away. 

"They  are  not  coming,"  said  Perry,  now  oblivious  of  his  hurt. 

"Sure,  they're  not,"  said  Mr.  Trigg.    "It's  the  fog  a-lifting." 

"Divide  your  powder,  boys,  quick !     I've  got  another  horn." 

"Here's  mine,  Mr.  Karnes.     Leave  me  enough." 

"All  right,   Perry." 

"This  reminds  me  of  when  we  were  waiting  for  a  charge 
the  Sepoys,"  said  Jones. 


GUY  RAYMOND.  197 


"What's  a  Sea  Poys?"  asked  Nathan. 
'I  was  speaking  of  a  people  in   India- 


"Who  in  thunder  wants  to  hear  of  India  now?"  asked  Hamilton. 
"You  had  better  be  saying  your  prayers ;  because  if  those  Greasers — 

'By  the  powers!  They're  on  the  move.  It's  a  dirty  set  to  be 
after  shooting.  The  British  at  Orleans  made  the  purtiest  mark — with 
their  red  coats — and  we  behind  the  cotton  bags." 

"Be  ready  there,  men!"  shouted  Captain  Bowie.  "Every  other 
man  throw  up  his  rifle  and  reserve  his  fire  until  we  see  the  effect 
of  the  first  volley.  Whatever  they  do — give  them  the  second  volley 
then — and  aim  well." 

K^he  Mexican  infantry,  now  about  three  hundred  yards  distant, 
advancing  in  common  time  in  line  of  battle.  Over  their  heads 
«,  ,.v,rce  of  mounted  troops  could  be  seen,  making  flank  movements, 
right  and  left,  intending,  perhaps,  to  clear  the  infantry  front.  On 
their  right,  two  pieces  of  field  artillery  were  planted  with  the 
cai>sons  in  the  rear,  drawn  by  mules. 

Suddenly  the  artillery  belched  forth  to  cover  the  infantry's  ad- 
vance, and  grape  and  cannister  went  crashing  through  the  branches 
of  the  trees  in  the  Texan  rear,  doing  no  other  damage.  At  one 
hundred  yards  the  Mexican  infantry  opened  fire.  Like  their  artillery, 
they  aimed  too  high,  if  they  aimed  at  all,  for  the  Texan  position 
effectually  concealed  their  force,  save  here  and  there,  where  a  head 
would  pop  up,  its  dardevil  owner  inviting  the  aim  of  their  marks- 
men. The  silence  of  their  onrmv  was,  of  itself,  an  ominous  circum- 
stance. The  approaching  line  evidently  felt  that  death  lingered  but 
a  few  rods  in  advance,  only  to  make  surer  of  its  victims,  for  when 
only  seventy-five  yards  intervened  between  it  and  the  bluff,  it  wav- 
ered— then  halted.  Their  officers  expostulated — then  ordered  them 
to  fire,  to  reassure  them.  After  two  volleys  from  their  ranks,  they 
again  advanced  at  quick  time,  but  ere  a  dozen  paces  had  lessened  their 
distance,  the  crack  of  fifty  rifles  sent  a  leaden  hail  into  their  ranks 
with  deadly  effect.  A  waver  of  the  line,  succeeded  by  desultory 
firing,  and  a  curve  that  brought  the  flanks  far  ahead  of  the  more 
stricken  center,  was  followed  by  hesitation  and  much  confusion. 

Another  volley  from  the  alternate  files,  who  had  reserved  their 
fire,  decided  the  matter  and  the  shattered  line  fled  in  dismay,  followed 
by  irregular  shots  from  the  Texans  as  they  reloaded.  The  latter  kept 
their  position.  In  the  absence  of  pursuit,  the  infantry  halted  at  six 
hundred  yards.  The  two  field  pieces  were  now  brought  in  close 
rat :<n«  in  sweep  the  Texan  line.  When  the  enemy  commenced  the 
latter  movement  Captains  Bowie  and  Fannin,  anticipating  its  pur- 


198  (T[TT  "RAYMOND. 

pose,  marched  thoir  coin  man  els  by  the  right  flank,  under  the  cover 
of  the  bluff,  so  as  to  bring  the  former's  company  Completely  around 
the  angle  of  that  embankment.  This  brought  the  Texan  right  in 
rifle,  distance  of  the  new  position  assumed  by  the  two  guns,  without 
having  disclosed  its  proximity.  The  enemy's  ignorance  of  any  change 
in  the  position  of  their  opponents  was  soon  disclosed  by  the  artillery 
fire  directed  against  the  point  but  a  few  minutes  before  occupied 
by  Fannin's  company.  The  gunners  were  not  allowed  to  continue  this 
waste  of  ammunition. 

"Here,    Karnes !      Let   six   good    shots   keep   those   guns    silent/' 
shouted  Bowie. 

A  moment  more  two  gunners  fell  in  the  act  of  firing. 

"Good   shot,    bailie."    said    Karnes.    '"We   both    got   'em.      Now 
ITani ill'on — and   you — Perry." 

Bang!     Bang!     Bang!     Throo  shots  rang  out  with  scarcely  an 
interval. 

"It  wasn't  your  turn,  Jones!"  expostulated   Hamilton. 

"I  got  mine  all  Ihe  same,"  retorted  Jones. 

More  shots;  and  Then  others  followed  as  fast  as  a  gunner  attempted 
to  fire  a,  piece,  and  at  each  discharge  more  victims  were  added  to 
the  exquisite  marksmanship  of  the  Texans.  A  spent  shot  struck  a 
mule  attached  to  one  of  the  caissons  and  stampeded  the  team.  The 
later  went,  at  full  speed,  across  the  plateau,  and  meeting  the  infantry, 
au'ain  returning  to  the  conflict,  dashed  through  their  ranks,  throwing 
them  into  confusion.  The  cavalry  bugler  now  sounded  a  charge,  more 
perhaps,  for  the  purpose  of  making  a  show  of  attack,  than  from  any 
reasonable  hope  of  dislodging  a  well-fortified  foe.  Nevertheless,  on 
they  came,  while  the  remorseless  rifles  of  their  enemy  but  awaited  a 
surer  aim.  Although  they  ventured  not  too  closely,  yet  when  they 
wheeled  in  rejreat,  several  empty  saddles  went  with  them.  The 
relivat.ing  horse  disclosed  the  denoted  infantry  again  in  motion  to 
aiiack.  The  diversion  erealed  by  (he  cavalry  evolution  enabled  the 
ariillerv  lo  hurl  a  storm  of  gmpe  :it  the  Texan  right  and  center.  The 
missiles  lore  ihe  ground  and  swept  across  the  brow  of  the  bluff  and 
threatened  serious  execution,  until  again  the  avenging  bullets  of  the 
right  cleared  the  guns  and  abated  the  danger.  By  this  the  inl'antiv 
had  gained  closer  <piar(crs  and  began  a  rapid  fusilade  at  the  Texans. 
whom  the  din  of  battle  had  rendered  indifferent  to  the  c\|osure  of 
their  persons,  and  who  kept  head  and  shoulders  into  view,  disapp 
ing  only  to  reload. 

"Why  can't  we-  charge?"  nsked  Perry,  wilh  boyish  enthusiasm. 

"I  >o\\n  \viih  ye,  hoy!     It's  below  ye  should  load." 


j  of 


GUY  T?  AY. MO  NO.  1!)!) 

"All  right,  Mr.  Trigg." 

""When  the  first  sign  of  confusion  nppears  amonv;  the  Mexicans, 
up  mid  charge  them!"  shouted  "Howie,  and  then  added: 

"Pass  the  order  along-  the  line." 

"By*  the  nation!"  exclaimed  Xathan.  "If  that'  Greaser  didn't 
jump  six  foot  when  my  bullet  hit  him!" 

The  Mexican  line  here  moved  suddenly  forward  with  a  yell,  after 
having  delivered  a  heavy  fire.  But  the  Texnns  were  prepared.  A 
deadly  fusilade  made  havoc  in  their  ranks.  Confusion  and  dismay 
made  easy  work  for  the  Texan  onset  which  followed.  With  a  wild 
yell,  that  rent  the  air  from  center  to  either  flank,  the  impatient  men 
threw  themselves  forward  upon  their  enemy,  who  turned  and  fled. 

"To  the  cannon!"  shouteci  Hamilton. 

"Here   I   am  I"  answered  Koach. 

These,  with  several  of  their  comrades,  oh  urged  the  £ims  and  soon 
:  Iliein.  Just  as  ihey  reached  the  piece-,  a  uallnnt  Mexican 
was  attempting  io  spike  ihem.  Nathan  was  about  |o  send  him  to  his 
1;H  account,  when  Hamilton  knocked  away  the  cluhhed  rifle. 

"Don't  kill  the  poor  devil  !     Turn  the  in  ins  on  Ihe  Hying  cowards." 

IFamilton  took  the  plucky  Mexican  prisoner  and  joined  his  com- 
rades in  directing  the  cannon  after  its  late  owners. 

"Hold,  men!"  commanded  Bowie.  "How  much  ammunrdon  for 
•  pieces?" 

'''Only  two  loads/'  answered  Hamilton,  a  Her  having  hastily  made 
the  inspoci  ion. 

"Then  reserve  it  in  case  those  people  should  return." 

The  I\loxicans  proved  to  he  complelelv  routed.  A  few  minuff-; 
had  served  1o  clear  ihe  plateau  afler  the  rout,  began.  The  viciors 
returned  IVom  the  pursuit  and  proceeded  io  colled  ihe  fruits  and 
calculate  the  cost  of  their  victory.  The  hatllefiold  was  strewn  vviHi 
dc;id  and  wounded  Mexicans,  whore  their  infanlry  had  suffered, 
while  around  the  cannon  lav  (he  ghasflv  corpses  of  twenty  avtillery- 
men. 

The  Texan  loss  was  trifling',  one  man  having  been  killed  and  a 
few  wounded.  Among  the  latter  was  Mr.  Trigg,  who  received  a 
musket  ball  in  his  shoulder,  making  a  painful  wound.  The  enemy 
had  sulTered  grieviously  tln'ou^h  his  own  mistakes.  His  tactics  were 
unpardonable  and  exhibited  the  grossest  incompetency,  rendering  un- 
available, bis  superior  numbers  und  diversity  of  arms.  Howie  and 
Fannin  were  jubilant  and  proud  of  a  victory  secured  before  the 
arrival  of  the  main  body  of  the  army. 

f>c fore  tiie  camp  had  again  settled  down  from  the  excitement  of 


victory,  and  the  confusion  incident  to  collecting  the  spoils  of  battle,! 
Austin's  little  army  came  in  sight.  The  newly  arrived  troops  were 
greatly  enthused  at  the  heroism  of  their  comrades  and  were  clamorous 
to  be  led  against  the  city.  A  council  of  the  officers,  however,  decided 
against  it,  and  the  ardor  of  the  men  had  to  succumb  to  authorit}r. 

By  permission,  Mr.  Trigg  was  conveyed  to  the  jacal  behind  the 
mission,  where  lived  Locaria,  the  little  Mexican  woman  with  whom 
Ruiz  had  conversed  the  day  previous.  Here  Perry  was  detailed  to 
attend  his  old  friend  with  any  of  his  mess  for  relief  who  might  be 
designated.  At  noon  a  flag  of  truce  arrived  from  the  town,  under 
the  charge  of  a  priest,  who  requested  leave  to  bury  their  dead.  This 
last  rite  was  performed  most  expeditiously,  by  using  a  deep  trench 
and  laying  the  bodies  side  by  side,  after  the  fashion  of  war,  shroud- 
less and  coffinless.  General  Austin,  who  was  standing  near  the 
mission  when  the  interment  was  about  concluded,  sent  for  the  priest, 
to  have  a  talk  with  him.  When  the  latter  came,  the  recognition 
which  followed  seemed  to  be  mutual. 

"Father  Ignacio,  as  I  live!" 

"General  Austin !     How  are  you  ?" 

"This  is  sad  work,  Father." 

"Then  why  make  such  work?" 

"To  secure  liberty." 

"The  Mexicans  are  satisfied." 

"Then  I  pity  them." 

"They  ask  no  pity — but  to  be  let  alone." 

"Are  we  aggressors?" 

"Yes,  primarily,  as  colonists." 

"We  are  here  under  contract." 

"Which   you   have   transcended/' 

"By  Santa  Anna's  interpretation." 

"It  is  Mexican  territory.  The  sovereign  authority  mav  interpret 
without  appeal." 

"Except  the  appeal  to  arms." 

"The  argument  of  unreason." 

"The  resort  of  men  who  will  not  be  enslaved." 

"The  resort  of  territorial  bandits." 

"An  imputation  that  should  never  be  raised  by  a  Spaniard." 

"The  Spaniard  conquered  but  to  save.  Where  his  banner  waved 
the  cross  was  planted." 

"And.  extermination  began." 

"A  truce  to  this  war  of  words.     General,  you  are  thin  in  f 

"Is  that  why  you  sent  me  the  mescal  and  the  piloncillas  ?" 


GUY  RAYMOND.  201 

"That  was  a  'ruse  de  guerre/  as  the  French  say.  My  name  was 
used,  but  I  knew  nothing  of  the  matter,  until  I  was  told  at  our 
headquarters  of  the  device  to  ascertain  your  presence." 

"Father,  there  is  an  Irishman,  wounded  and  lying  in  yonder  jacal. 
As  lie  belongs  to  your  faith,  you  had  better  visit  him.  He  is  a  true 
revolutionist,  however." 

Father  Ignacio  stated  that  his  time  was  limited,  but  he  would 
see  the  unfortunate  for  a  moment. 

Mr.  Trigg  was  lying  on  the  bed  in  the  jacal.  Locaria  was  remov- 
ing the  remains  of  a  lunch  of  which  he  had  been  partaking,  when 
Father  Ignacio  pushed  aside  the  fresada  at  the  door.  The  little 
woman  saluted  and  invited  him  tp  enter. 

"Is  there  a  wounded  man  within?" 

"Yes,  my  father." 

"Can  he  speak  Spanish  ?" 

"I  think  not." 

As  soon  as  the  priest  entered,  Mr.  Trigg  recognized  his  office  by 
his  dress,  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"God  bless  you,  my  poor  man.  Are  you  badly  wounded?"  the 
father  asked  in  Spanish. 

"I  know  it's  your  blessing  you're  giving  me,  Father,  and  it's 
thankful  I  am  to  your  reverence,  if  I  can't  understand  a  word  you're 
saying." 

"Not— speak — Spanish?"  the  priest  asked,  in  illy  articulated  Eng- 
lish. 

"I  could  never  twist  my  tongue  to  it.  But  it's  your  reverence 
who  can  speak  a  little  of  my  language." 

"Xo   entiendo — not — un'stan." 

"It's,  little  use  we'll  be  to  one  another,  for  our  lingos  are  like 
oil  and  water.  Is  it  from  town  ye  are  sir?  But  sorrow  a  word  he 
knows  of  what  I  be  telling  him.  He  might  know  the  boy  too,  or 
the  priest  he  fell  in  with.  If  I  could  talk  their  lingo  like  Guy,  I'd 
BOOH  be  knowing  all  about  it.  He  might  be  knowing  the  name  of 
the  lad  if  I  should  speak  it." 

He  looked  earnestly  at  the  priest,  as  if  devising  some  means  by 
which  to  make  himself  understood,  then  said  slowly: 

"Is  your  reverence  acquainted  with  Guy — Guy  Raymond?' 

Despite  the  peculiar  brogue,  which  augmented  the  Spaniard's  dif- 
ficulty in  reconciling  Mr.  Trie's  pronunciation  of  Guy's  name  with 
the  sounds  -riven  it  in  the  more  euphonious  enunciation  to  which  he 
had  hecn  accustomed,  he  caught  the  surname  and  asked  in  his  own 
language: 


AYMOND; 

"Did  you  say  something  of  Senor  Raymond?" 

"Seiinour  Raymond!  That's  Mister  Kaymond — yes,  Father,  Sen- 
110 ur  Raymond."  Then  pointing  to  his  own  breast,  he  continued: 

"My  boy — my  boy." 

"Sec  muchacho  de  VI"  said  the  lather,  in  surprise.  Then  he 
said,  as  if  in  soliloquy:  "He  told  me  his  lather  was  dead." 

"Not  a  word!  Not  a  word!  Oh!  II  lie  could  speak  a  decent 
language." 

"L'aymond — (iuy   Raymond/'   repeated    Father  Ignacio. 

"That's  him!     That's  him"  said  the  other,  excitedly. 

"Como  se  llama  V.  ?"  asked  his  visitor,  imitating  the  motion  of 
writing. 

"Sure,  I  couldn't-  \\riic  in  this  lix/'  said  Mr.  Trig^.  mistaking  his 
meaning.  "It's  my  right  arm  and  shoulder  that's  hurt." 

Father  Jgnucio  took  from  his  pocket  a  pencil  and  piece  of  paper. 
Then,  motioning  to  himself,  he  said: 

"Father  Ignacio."  Then,  pointing  toward  the  town,  he  pro- 
nounced UK;  name  of  Guy.  Then,  putting  his  hand  on  Mr.  Trigg's 
breast,  he  said  : 

"Mister ?" 

"Oh!      It's  my  name!     Trigg,   it    is,  sir — Trigg,  it  is  sir.'' 

The  brogue  here  again  had  a.  had  effect,  while  the  three  mono- 
syllables which  the  Irishman,  in  his  volubility,  unfortunately  em- 
ployed, and  which  were  not  intelligible  to  his  auditor,  merged  them- 
selves into  the  short  sobriquet  and,  in  the  mind  of  the  priest,  danced 
attendance  as  terminal  parts  of  suffixes.  He  accordingly  repeated, 
after  Mr.  Trigg's  announcement: 

"Trigatissa — Trigatissa." 

"What  is  the  creature  after  saving?  He  should  learn  a  decent 
talk  or  take  o(f  his  cassock.  One  little  Irish  priest  is  worth  a  ship's 
load  of  his  kind." 

Father  Ignacio  had  written  the  mime  as  he  had  repeated  it, 
held  it  up  for  its  owner  to  recognize. 

"F  haven't  my  specs;  but  I  can  see  that  if  my  picture  would  1( 
as  little  like  myself  as  that  looks  like  Trigg — then  my  ould  mother 
would  not  know  it." 

He  looked  at  Father  Ignacio,  and  shaking  his  head  in  an  emphai 
negative,  said  emphatically: 

"Trigg's   my  name — Trigg V   my   name." 

The  patient  priest  again  look  his  pencil  and  wrote:  "Trigsmiiioi 

He  held    if   up  as   before'.      Mr.   Trigg  scrulini/ed    if.   first   in 
side,  then  to  the  other;  then  held  it  off  to  the  length  of  his  left  arm. 


GUY  KAY.MOXD.  203 

'"Sure,  it  looks  longer  ihan  tin-  other  tiling  he  put  down.  I'm 
after  thinking  it's  out  of  your  power  to  understand  anything  about 
names.  J  sairl  it  as  plain  as  a  mortal  man  could,  and  ye've  got  it 
all  wrong,  which  I  can  loll  by  the,  length  of  it;  for  it's  short  my 
name  is;  no  more  nor  five  letters — T-r-i-g-g-— Trigg.'' 

The  good  priest  was,  of  course,  lost  io  know  what  Mr.  Trigg  was 
saying,  hut  secured  the  paper  and  put  it  in  his  pocket.  Then  he 
dre\v  forth  from  the  opposite  breast  of  his  cassock  a  pocket  from 
which  he  selected  a  piclure  of  (lie  sacred  heart  and  a  small  medal. 
These  he  gave  to  the  wounded  Irishman,  al  ihe  same  time  signifying, 
by  making  the  sign  of  ihe  cross  over  them,  thai  they  had  heen 
blessed.  This  the  other  comprehended  at  once,  and  thanked  the 
donor. 

< 'niisulling  Ids  watch,  Kafher  l^nacio  gave  both  the  inmates  of 
the  room  his  blessing  and  departed. 

Mr.  Trigg  indulged  in  a.  short  soliloquy  when  left,  alone,  in  which 
lie  gave  vent  to  reflections  suggested  by  his  interview  with  the  priest 
of  San  Fernando. 

"Fm  thankful  for  the  picture  and  the  medal.  He  is  a  good  man, 
no  doubt,  but  has  a  weakness  about  understanding  names.  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  that  lower  of  Babel  Cod's  creatures  would  all  be 
speaking  one  way." 


,„, 


CHAPTEE  XXIX. 


laid  awake  ihe  next    morning  after  his  conversation   with  his 

host  and  Father  Nicolas,  ruminating  indiscriminately  on  the  mass 
of  events  crowded  into  the  chapter  of  his  life,  that  opened  with  his 
advent  into  San  Antonio.  His  mind  was  in  that  peculiar  state  that 
fixes  upon  no  certain  circumstance,  but  each  newborn  thought  yields 
succ.ssivoly  to  a  follower,  crowding  its  way  to  the  attention  only 
to  b"  i.n  turn  discarded  with  scarcely  a  recognition,  the  whole  train 
forming  a  mere  jumble  of  conscious  realizations  not  to  be  dignified 
by  the  name  of  reflection.  The  kindness  of  the  good  priest,  who 
had  been  his  fast  friend,  was  uppermost  in  his  mind,  but  gave  place 
to  a  mixture  of  subjects,  among  which  the  face  of  the  fair  Beatrice 
would  intrude  itself  constantly  and  dwell  longer  than  its  fellows.  He 
was  roused  suddenly  from  this  medley  by  the  sound  of  a.rtillery  and 
the  [topping  of  small  arms,  whose1  report  told  that  the  affray  had 
opened  'f\\,  about  the  distance  of  the  first  mission.  He  sprang  from 
(he  bed  and  listened  from  the  window.  He  knew  his  countrymen 
had  been  attacked  in  their  position  arid  that  the  artillery  whose 


2-04.  GUY  RAYMOND. 

reports  had  been  brought  to  him  on  the  heavy  atmosphere  of  the 
misty  morning  was  directed  at  their  ranks,  and  the  thought  sent  the 
blood  rapidly  through  his  veins,  while  he  made  a  mental  picture  of 
the  conflict.  He  hurried  on  his  clothes  as  if  some  purpose  necessi- 
tated haste,  but  pasuing  as  he  was  about  to  descend,  he  reflected : 

"What  can  I  do  but  remain  here  inactive?" 

Parolel  to  not  leave  certain  limits,  he  could  not  join  his  fri( 
nor  could  he  get  sympathy  from  any,  even  should  he  go  to  the  sitting 
room  or  out  into  the  town.  Father  Ignacio  was  awaiting  him  for 
breakfast. 

"Have  you  heard  the  firing?"  he  asked  of  Guy. 

"The  sounds  of  the  guns  aroused  me." 

"General  Cos  intended  a  surprise  just  before  day,  but  the  first 
gun  fired  at  seven." 

"Perhaps  he  waited  for  daylight,  in  order  to  be  able  lo  see  how 
to  catch  all  the  rebels,"  said  Guy,  ironically. 

Jose  having  announced  breakfast,  the  two  repaired  to  the  dining- 
room,  where  they  found  Father  Nicolas.  The  meal  was  dispatched  in 
almost  total  silence.  The  boom  of  the  guns  caused  ever  and  anon 
an  expressive  glance  to  be  exchanged,  while  the  busy  mind  suppressed 
its  fullness.  Guy  partook  only  of  coffee,  and  in  mere  courtesy 
addressed  a  remark  or  two  to  his  companions. 

Excusing  himself,  Guy  left  the  room,  receiving  a  parting  injunc- 
tion from  his  host  to  be  seen  in  the  streets  as  little  as  possible 
pending  the  excitement.  He  nevertheless  sallied  forth,  feeling  that 
close  confinement  was  better  than  this  seeming  liberty,  limiting  him 
by  viewless  barriers,  which,  while  inclination  tempted  him  to  dis- 
regard them,  honor  made  stronger  than  the  walls  of  adamant.  He 
strolled  along  aimlessly,  anxiously  listening  to  the  distant  firing. 
The  sound  of  artillery  fire  had  ceased  when  he  found  himself  opposite 
the  home  of  Beatrice  Navarro.  Without  pausing  to  debate  the  pro- 
priety of  the  action,  he  entered  the  gate  and  rapped  at  the  door. 
The  delay  made  in  responding  to  his  summons  grew  into  minutes 
and  furnished  the  caller  with  time  for  reflection.  He  disliked  to 
repeat  his  knock,  and  was  equally  reluctant  to  withdraw  without 
another  attempt  to  make  his  presence  known.  He  wanted  to  see 
Beatrice — Beatrice  who  was  already  engaged;  Beatrice  whom  he  had 
seen  but  twice,  and  spoken  with  but  on  one  occasion.  He  had  ren- 
dered her  a  service  and  had  been  invited  to  call.  He  had  promised. 
He  was  here.  Was  he  calling;  to  claim  more  thanks?  Her  father's 
thanks  had  been  promised.  He  did  not  care  a  cent  for  that  gentle- 
man's gratitude.  This  call  seemed  to  him  purposeless;  but  like  the 


Gtrx  KAY  MOM).  205 

needle  he  was  drawn  to  this  magnet:  of  a  girl,  who  was  engaged. 
11(3  wished  he  had  never  seen  Josef,-!.  lie  hoped  to  never-  again  IK-MI* 
of  Ruiz.  He  rapped  again.  Sounds  of  steps  were  heard  inside.  A 
little  flush  of  anticipation  colored  his  fair  cheek  as  the  impersonation 
of  a  divinity  was  expected  to  appear  and  bid  him  welcome.  The 
door  opened  and  disclosed  an  old  gentleman  of  quiet  demeanor,  with 
gray  hair  and  beard  who,  glancing  inquiringly  at  him,  exchanged  the 
morning  salutation  in  Spanish  and  inquired : 

"Who  have  I  the  pleasure  to  greet  ?" 

"Guy  Baymond,  sir." 

"Will  you  walk  in,  sir,  and  have  a  seat?" 

Guy  entering,  glanced  around  the  apartment  and  took  the  prof- 
fered (-hair.  The  old  gentleman,  scaling  himself  quite,  opposite, 
placed  his  hands  upon  his  knees  and  inclining  his  body  slightly 
forward,  cast  another  inquiring  look  at;  bis  visitor. 

"You  are  Senor  -Navarre?" 

"At  your  service,  senor." 

"\   came  around   to  soe — to  see — to  see  you,  sir." 

"I    am    a  I.    your   disposition,    senor." 

"Are  the  ladies  at  home?" 

"My  daughters!      Do  you    know   them?" 

"Assuredly  ho  has  not,  beard/'  i bought  Guy.  "Yes — I  know  the 
Scnorita  Beatrice." 

"The  ladies  are  not  in  just  now.  lint,  senor,  I  understand  it 
was  I  you  wished  to  see." 

"The  Senorita  Beatrice  said  that  she  would  like  to  have  me 
make  your  acquaintance,  because  you  are  so  fond  of  her." 

"Beatrice — said — that?  De  verras  !  That  is  a  queer  reason.  If 
my  fondness  for  my  daughter  makes  it  of  moment  that  I  should 
kno\\r  you,  there  must  be  something  between  Beatrice  and  yourself 
that  should  not  have  existed  without,  my  previous  knowledge." 

Tin;  old  gen  I  ICMIMII  straightened  up  as  he  said  this  and  rising 
from  his  chair,  made  a  couple  of  strides  and  looked  for  an  answer. 
(iuy  colored  deeply  and  hastened  to  explain: 

"It  is  quite  evident,  Scnor  Navarro,  that  you  do  not  understand 
my  moti\o  in  calling.  T— 

"Yes,  senor,  from  your  own  lips.  It  was  to  make  my  acquaint- 
ance, and  that  my  younger  daughter  desired  it/' 

"If  you  will  allow  me   I   will  explain  why  she  desired  it." 

'•Tbi-ri  you   will    re;ieh   the   point  I  wish  to  understand." 

"ft  was    my  good    fortune   to    render   her   a    service." 
service!" 


206  GUY  RAYMOND. 


ich   she 
ler. 

: 


"Upon  which  she  places  too  much   importance,   and   whicl 
thought   you   would   appreciate   highly    for    the   love   you   bear   her. 
I'nder  those  impressions,  what    more  natural  than  her  desire — that- 
at1   least — we  he  not  strangers." 

"Well,  senor.  the  service.    What  is  it?" 

"Since  the  Senorita  Beatrice  has  not  seen  fit  to  mention  it,  it 
not  meet  that  information  come  from  my  lips.  What  allusion  1 
have  made  to  the  subject  has  been  only  in  an  attempted  apology  for 
my  presence  here.  A  stranger  to  you,  I  have  nothing  to  say  of  your 
cool,  but  courteous  reception  of  myself.  The  custom  of  your  people 
forbids  social  intercourse  between  a  comparative  stranger  and  a 
daughter  of  the  household;  and  I  pledge  you  my  word  of  honor,  this 
call  would  never  have  been  made  save  under  the  circumstances  as 
I  have  partially  related  them." 

"You  speak   very   fairly,   senor.      I   shall   ask   an   explanation  of 
Beatrice." 

"Good  day,  senor,"  and  Guy  bowed  himself  out. 
Once  upon  the  street  he  bit  his  lip  in  vexation  and  hurried  along 
towards  the  military  plaza  in  a  not  very  enviable  state  of  mind.  It 
was  .the  dinner  hour  before  Guy  returned  to  Father  Ignacio's.  The 
absence  of  the  priest  was  voluntarily  made  known  by  Jose,  who  came 
to  see  who  it  was  entering  the  sitting  room. 

"Father  Ignacio  went  with  a  flag  of  truce  to  get  permission 
bury  the  dead." 

"So,  there  have  been  some  killed  on  the  government  side." 
"A  few,  senor;  but  the  rebels  lost  more  heavily." 
"In  that  case  it  is  a  strange  proceeding  to  get  the  services 
a  priest  to  beg  permission  of  the  worsted  to  bury  the  dead." 

"Sometimes  that  may  happen.     Victories  are  often  dearly  won. 
Guy  relapsed   into   silence  and   drawing  his  chair  closer  to 
window,   looked   abstractedly   into   the   plaza.     A   careta   containing 
wounded  soldiers  passed  in  from  Carcel  and  continued  on  up  Soledad 
street.     Mounted  officers  were  riding  about  and  knots  of  people  wei 
gathered  here  and  there. 

Guy  witnessed  this  passively,  his  mind  full  of  his  own  defeated 
purpose  in  calling  at  Senor  Navarro's.  Where  could  Beatrice  have 
been?  Why  had  she  suppressed  his  service  from  her  father?  Wa- 
she  a  flirt?  Had  she  heartlessly  laid  a  trap  for  him?  If  Senor 
Navarro  had  not  been  apprised  of  her  rescue  he  could  not  be  blamed 
for  his  courteous  coolness  to  a  stranger  invading  unheralded,  the 
privacy  of  his  home.  Instead  of  proving  the  fortunate  circumstance 
he  had  regarded  it,  providing  a  key  of  admittance  to  the  presem 


GUY  RAYMOND.  207 

of  the  lovely  Beatrice,  her  rescue  now  placed  him  in  a  most  unhappy 
position.  Now  it  seemed  to  him  all  a  mistake.  He  felt  that  all  the 
world  was  against  him.  Ruiz,  who  had  hefriended  him,  was  engaged 
to  this  enigma  iu  woman's  most  beautiful  shape  and  would  doubtless 
resent  even  the  suspicion  of  admiration  for  her  from  any  other 
quarter.  A  feeling  akin  to  desolation  nearly  overpowered  him,  as, 
with  a  deep  sigh,  he  leaned  his  head  forward  on  his  arm.  The 
rescuer  is  not  always  repaid  with  love  by  the  rescued.  Laoni's  image 
rose  before  his  closed  eyes.  Laoni  was  true  and  loving,  but,  like 
himself,  she  iras  the  rescuer. 

Guy  was  aroused  by  the  priest. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you  at  home,  senor.  Those  bad  countrymen 
of  yours  have  killed  many  of  our  poor  fellows.  Such  a  sad  sight! 
So  sad,  senor !" 

"Did  you  go  to  their  camp?''  asked  Guy,  brightening  up  with 
interest. 

saw  General  Austin  at  the  mission  and  Bowie,  also/' 
ere  many  of  our  men  killed,  Father?" 

me.   I  did  not  ask  how  many.    One  wounded  rebel  is  a  Catholic 
him    I   saw  by  request   of  General   Austin.     He  could  not  speak 
Spanish,  nor  I  English,  so  we  had  a   very  poor  interview.     He  called 
name,  I  think.     It  sounded  very  like  it." 
'Tis  a  >pity  you  did  not  learn  his  name." 
"I  did  try.     I  wrote  it  down  as  near  as  I  could  understand  it. 
The  poor  fellow  had  such  a  dreadful  way  of  pronouncing  his  words, 
1   thought.     I   have  here  a  memorandum  of  his  name/'  said  Father 
iLiineio,  fumbling  in  the  capacious  depths  of  his  cassock  pocket,  but 
w  thout  producing  what  lie  was  searching  for. 

"It  is  quite  probable  I  have  lost  it."  he  continued,  "but  I  can 
repeat  it.  It  sounded  like  'Trickomum,'  or  'Trickissin,'  or  'Triggit- 
izzor." 

"I  wonder  if  it  could  have  been  Mr.  Trigg,"  mused  Guy. 
"He  accepted  a  picture  and   a   medal   from  me  and  after  giving 
e  poor  fellow   my  blessing,  I  came  away.     He  has   a  good  little 
woman   nurse,   senor;   so,    if  he   is   a   friend  of  yours,  he  is  in  good 
hand-." 

The  next,  clay  after  Guy's  disappointment,  consequent  to  his 
visit  to  the  Navarre  home,  Josef  a  de  la  Torre  was  sitting  at  the 
gr-ited  window  of  her  homo  that  looked  upon  the  narrow  street,  with 
one  arm  resting  upon  the  slab  which  formed  the  sill  of  the  opening. 
H<T  head  reposed  easily  upon  her  palm  as  it  turned  towards  an  elder 
with  whom  she  had  apparently  been  conversing. 


M, 


208 


GUY  EAYMOND. 


"You  are  a  strange  girl,  Josefa.     You  are  all  your  father's." 
"It  is  natural  that  I  should  want  revenge  when  it  is  my  natu 
to  be  revengeful.    Shall  I  contend  against  nature?" 

"Certainly.     If  we  have  bad  inclinations,  reason,  if  not  religioi 
should  show  you  the  necessity  of  controlling  them." 

"Nature  does  nothing  bad.     If  it  gave  me  character,  marked  by 
certain  propensities,  their  indulgence  is  a  natural  sequence  and  is 
but  the  following  out  of  natural  law.     Beatrice  Navarro  has  cau 
me  unhappiness  and  I  hate  her." 

"She  has  not  done  so  intentionally." 

"It  makes  no  difference.     It  is  enough  that  she  is  the  cause." 

"I  should  think,  with  your  pretended  philosophy,  that  tramples 

under  foot  every  principle  of  religion,  you  would  rise  above  these 

petty  jealousies  which,  to  me,  indicates  more  weakness  of  mind  than 

belief  in  all  the  dogmas  of  the  church,  termed  by  you  superstition." 

"Tliis   is   my   existence.     I   know   of   none  other.      When   I   get 

through  with  this  world;  when   I   exhaust  the  knowledge  of  life's 

medium,  I  come  to  the  stone  wall.     What  is  beyond,  I  know  not.     I 

care  not.     My  happiness  here  is  my  all.     If  anyone  comes  between 

me  and  my  happiness  none  shall  deny  me  the  privilege  of  hating." 

"But,  Josfa,  you,  yourself  acknowledge  she  does  not  love  Senor 

Ruiz." 

"What  difference!  He  loves  her." 

"Much.     He  is  the  fickle  one;  she  the  innocent  cause." 
"But  still  the  cause.     What  difference  is  there  in  the  effect?" 
Much  again.    Ruiz,  having  no  encouragement,  may  return  to  th 
old  love." 

"Let  him  dare — to  return — on  such  terms !    He  will  feel  my  kee 
resentment  in  such  a  shape  that  his  heart's  blood  may  answer." 
"Santa  Maria!     Josefa,  you  have  gone  mad." 
"There  will  be  method  in  n\y  madness,  as  may  yet  be  seen." 
The   excited   girl    arose,    before   her   mother's    exclamation,    an 
paced  the  floor. 

"Beatrice  Joves  this  American,"  she  said,  "but  I  will  try  to  find 
the  means  to  thwart  her.  I  have  a  purpose  in  view,  and  now  is  as 
good  a  time  to  execute  it  as  any. 


.  is 
sed 


So  saying,  Josefa  left  the  room. 

for  the  street. 
"Where  now?" 
"San  Fernando." 
"To  your  uncle's?" 
"Yes,  mother,  to  uncle's." 


In  a  few  moments  she  reappeared 


GUY  RAYMOND.  209 

"What  freak  is  this— that— 

llci-   daughter  was   in   the  street    before  she  could   complete  the 
question. 

There  was  a  slight  dri//le  without,  but  Jose  fa.  had  enveloped  her 
form    in   a   thick   rebosa   and   eared    liltle    for    the    dampness.      Tlic 
streets  were  almost  descried,  as  ii  was  the  hour  in  Hie  afiernoon  when 
more  or  less  of  Hie  population   indulged   in    the   national   sie>ta.     She 
looked    in   at  the  church  as  she  passed,  to  see  if  Father    Ignacio  was 
wiihiii,   l>ut  the  gloomy   old    pile   was   dark  and    vacan'l,    without  a 
ngle  relief  save  1he  liny  glimmer  of  the  light,  to  the  right  of  the 
liar,   whose  constant   flame   never    failed    year   in    and   year  out.     It 
as    the   first   time   .lose fa    had    been    even    in    the    enclosure   of   the 
thedral   for  months   and    ii    was   with   no   little  surprise   that  Jose 
countered  her  at  the  gale  as  she  was  coming  out. 
"Is  my  uncle  al    home?"  she  asked   of  him. 
"Si.  senorita,"   he  replied,  uncovering. 

Jose  really   feared  his   master's   niece.     He  thought  she  must  be 
sessed,   for  ihe  reason   thai   she  was  noi    religious,  never  going  to 
nfession    or    mass,    or    showing    any    reverence    for    the    things    or 
adit-ions   which   he  held   so   sacred   and   regarded  so  essential  for  a 
ppv  hereafter. 
"Is  any  one  with  him  ?" 
"No,  senorHa,  sola." 
"\ot  even  that  stupid  Nicolas?" 
"\o.  senorita,  nadie." 

She  swept    by   the   major   domo,   who  followed  her  with  bis  eyes 
r    a.    moment. 

"Perhaps   she    wanfs   [^   confess,"    thought   Jose.     "No,"  he   con- 
nued,  "if  she  bad  repented  she  would  not  have  called  Father  Nicolas' 
me  without  putting  the  'I'alher1  before  it.    And  then  she  said  'stupid' 
icolas.     No,  she  is  not  bent  on  confessing  this  time." 

"Josefa  reached  the  hall  just  as  a  boy  entered  the  door,  and  as 
e  stood  hesitatingly,  she  asked  him  what  he  wanted.  The  little 
el  low  was  poorly  clad,  and  she  concluded  he  must  be  one  of  the 
niKTs  of  her  charitable  uncle.  She  pulled  out  a  real  and  handed 
to  him.  telling-  him  at  the  same  time  that  the  father  was  engaged 
and  could  not  see  him. 

"You  must  come  another  lime/'  she  said  to  him. 
"Pint  !  am  to  leave  n  MOJO  here." 

-\\    note!      Let    me  have  it   and    I    will  give  it  to  Father   Iguacio." 
lie  dre\\    a   note   from   under  his  blouse  and  held  it  towards  her. 
NCI-  face  flushed  as  she  read  the  superscription. 


rUY  11 AYMOND. 


"Mr.  Guy  Raymond." 

It  was  in  a  handwriting  she  at  once  recognized.    Beatrice  Navai 
had  written  it. 

"Who  gave  you  this?" 

"Una  senora.     She  called  me  as  I  was  passing  and  gave  me 
quartilla  to  bring  it  here." 

"Well,  you  have  a  real  and  a  quartilla  and  are  well  paid.  Here 
are  two  reals  more  to  keep  your  tongue.  If  you  should  be  asked 
about  this  note,  say  that  you  left  it  here." 

As  Josefa  spoke  she  threw  the  missive  on  the  bench  in  the  hall, 
to  demonstrate  where  he  was  to  say  he  had  left  it. 

The  delighted  urchin  ran  off  with  his  money  and  the  other  took 
up  the  note  and  placed  it  in  her  pocket. 

The  uncle  and  niece  remained  long  in  the  sitting  room.  At  least 
an  hour  passed  before  the  latter  came  out  to  take  her  departure.  Her 
eyes  were  red  as  though  she  had  been  crying,  and  her  face  plainly 
indicated  vexation  and  disappointment.  She  took  rapid  steps  home- 
wards and  before  many  minutes  was  in  the  privacy  of  her  own  room. 
So  soon  as  the  rebosa  was  laid  aside  she  drew  back  the  window 
curtain  to  let  the  light  fall  upon  her  face,  as  it  was  reflected  from 
her  mirror.  The  reflection  was  not  satisfactory.  With  impatience 
she  repaired  to  her  washstand  and  laved  her  eyes  in  the  basin;  th( 
drying  them,  again  had  recource  to  her  glass,  where,  with  the  ai( 
of  powder  all  traces  of  her  recent  emotion  were  removed.  A  more 
satisfied  look  settled  on  her  countenance  as  she  sank  in  a  chair  by 
the  window  and  leaned  forward  reflectively  over  the  sill.  The  after- 
noon was  about  to  merge  into  evening  and  already  the  bats  had  left 
their  crevice ,  retreats  and  were  flying  hither  and  yon,  fluttering  by 
the  grated  opening  where  Josefa  sat.  The  bats,  however,  were  not  in 
her  mind.  It  was  most  probably  the  intercepted  note  that  claimed 
her  thoughts,  for  suddenly  she  thrust  a  hand  in  her  pocket  and  drew 
it  forth.  Scrutinizing  the  address  for  a  moment,  she  tore  it  open; 
then  rising,  bent  further  out  towards  the  clearer  light  to  glean  the 
contents.  An  exclamation  of  disgust  escaped  her  lips  as  she  crumpled 
the  paper  in  her  hand. 

"Written  in  English !"  she  said.     "And  I  cannot  know  a  word 
its  meaning." 


GUY  RAYMOND.  211 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

A  week  had  passed  since  Josef  a's  visit  to  her  uncle,  and  nothing 
of  importance -had  occurred  in  military  or  social  circles  in  the  city. 
Gny.  rather  crestfallen  from  the  misadventure  which  had  attended 
liis  call  at  the  Xavarro's,  and  dejected  still  further  by  unremitting 
reflection  upon  the  singular  termination  of  a  prospective  intercourse 
so  auspiciously  begun,  kept  rather  closely  in  his  quarters  at  Father 
IgnaciVs.  He  had  been  once  to  see  Linda,  whom  he  found  in  her 
usual  quiet,  placid  mood,  so  glaringly  in  contrast  with  the  coarse 
d  boisterous  manners  of  her  father.  Bonito  was  as  gracious  a- 
r  in  his  rude  Avay.  He  had  vivid  recollections  of  his  former 
isoner's  generosity  and  would  not  have  hesitated  to  wish  for  his 
ncarceration,  since  it  would  mean  an  increased  revenue  to  his 
checquer.  The  old  fellow  was  never  slow  to  perceive  the  slightest 
inter  to  a  method  that  might  work  out  a  resulting  acquisition  to 
Bonito V  possessions.  Its  insignificance  mattered  not.  Once  the  peso, 
e  real  or  the  quartilla  slipped  Bonito's  purse  it  there  remained, 
e  old  jailer  had  remarked  Guy's  love  for  the  books  which  Linda 
brought  from  the  monte  pio's,  and  he  could  not  comprehend 
w  the  latter  had  let  slip  an  opportunity  that  offered  so  rare  a 
nee  to  exact  at  least  a  fair  amount  for  their  recovery.  He  turned 
over  in  his  mind  at  the  time  and  the  following  night  the  thought 
irly  kept  him  awake.  He  concluded  that  the  monte  pio  was  cer- 
nly  ignorant  of  the  value  of  books,  or  rather  of  the  value  placed 
n  them  by  others.  He  heard  Guy  say  that  his  family  lost  other 
ks  on  the  same  occasion  when  those  recovered  had  been  taken, 
w,,  by  a  deductive  process  of  his  own,  Bonito  concluded  that  the 
nte  pio  might  have  others  of  the  missing  volumes,  and  would 
rt  with  them  on  the  same  terms  he  had  surrendered  the  two  in 
.estion.  If  this  should  prove  the  case,  a  fine  field  for  speculation 
would  be  open  to  Bonito,  who  could  secure  the  prized  volumes  and 
then  he  could  dictate  terms.  He  could  not  sleep  after  the  new-born 
thought  had  attained  its  fully  developed  shape  as  to  ultimate  results, 
da  should  never  know  of  the  scheme.  The  silly  fool  would 
pose  him.  She  would  starve  if  left  to  her  own  resources.  Bonito 
t  his  secret  and  if  he  visited  the  monte  pio  in  the  interest  of 
contemplated  speculation  his  daughter  was  none  the  wiser.  The 
ter,  however,  in  l lie  round  of  her  domestic  occupation,  explored 
6  dav  the  deplhs  of  Bonito's  chest  where  he  usually  kept  his 
thes  not  in  immediate  demand,  besides  odds  and  ends  of  no 


212 


GUY  RAYMOND. 


known  value  to  the  owner  or  any  one  else.  The  presence 
chest  of  a  book  was  more  than  a  surprise  to  the  daughter,  as  she 
knew  her  father  was  illiterate  and  the  house  contained  no  volumes 
outside  of  the  little  school  collection  all  her  own  and  the  "Camino 
del  Cielo,"  which  she  took  to  mass  on  Sundays.  A  mention  to  her 
father  of  the  discovery  of  the  volume  called  forth  a  reprimand  for 
spying  into  his  affairs. 

On  the  occasion  of  Guy's  call,  mentioned  at  the  opening  of  the 
chapter,  Bonito's  manner  was  so  restless  as  to  call  forth  remark 
from  the  young-  people  who,  by  the  old  jailer's  frequent  leaving  the 
apartment,  only  to  reappear  in  a  few  moments  either  to  take  a 
restless  seat  or  to  give  a  glance  into  the  door,  were  often  left  to 
themselves. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  your  father,  Linda,"  asked  Guy,  finally. 

"Quien  sabe,  senor,"  the  girl  replied  languidly  and  half  sighing. 

"It  looks  as  if  he  wants  to  tell  me  something  and  cannot  make 
up  his  mind  to  do  it." 

"Maybe  so." 

"Linda,  does  he  treat  you  well?" 

"In  his  AVMV.     Rut,  senor,  he  does  try  me  at  times." 

"He  loves  money." 

"Better  than  his  soul.     Would  you  believe  it,  he  never  confesses." 

"That  is  bad." 

"You  think  so?     But  Senor  Eaymond  does  not  confess." 

"But  I  do  not  believe  in  such  things.     If  I  did  I  should  go 
confession." 

"I  am  sorry  for  you,  senor — and  for  my  father." 

"And  for  Josefa?     The  Senorita  de  la  Torre  has  no  faith." 

"Ah,  Josefa!     Josefa  is  lost!" 

"Has  she  been  here  lately?" 

"Not  since  you  went  home  with  her." 

"No?" 

"She  came  here  then  only  to  meet  you,  senor." 

"I  can't  believe  that." 

"She  told  me  so." 

"She!     Interested  in  me?" 

"Curiosity,  perhaps.     She  loves  Manuel  Ruiz." 

"Ruiz !" 

"Everybody  loves  Ruiz,"  said  Guy,  half  sighing.     "Linda,  an1 
in  Jove  \vitli  Ruiz,  too?" 

"I?     Not  I,  senor." 

"But— the  Senorita   ^«««rro  and  the   Senorita   de   la  Torre 


GUY  RAYMOND.  213 

in  love  with  Ruiz,  and   I  thought    perhaps  the  Senorita    Linda   had 
also  fallen  a  victim  to  his  charms." 

"Beatrice  Navarro!  Senor  Raymond  mistakes.  I  am  certain  that 
Manuel  is  no  favorite  with  Beatrice." 

"Possibly,    for  she   may   be   heartless.      Rni/,   however,   loves    her."' 

''That  is  very  probable,  scnor.     Beatrice  is  so  beautiful.'' 

"But  so  heartless." 

"You  have  discovered  it!     And  so  soon?" 

"She  forced   me  to   perceive  it." 

'•You  have  been  often  to  (he  Navarro's?" 

"But  twice.  Once  when  I  rescued  her  from  the  herd  and  again 
day  of  the  Mission  fight." 

"And  in  two  interviews,  senor,  you  find  my  friend  tube  heari 

,e  you   not   l)een  too  impetuous?" 

'•She  gave  me  no  opportunity,  Linda,"1  replied  (lny,  smiling.  "I 
received  by  the  old  gentleman  the  last  time  L  went  to  see  her, 
he  politely  bowed  me  out  of  the  house." 

"And  why?" 

nien  sabe,"  answerd  (Jny,  mimicking  the  other's  manner.     "The 

lorita  Beatrice  had  not,  onlv  not  infdrmed  hei1  father  of  my  timely 
service,  but  had  never  hinted  at  our  chance  acquaintance.  She  was 
not  at  home  and  could  not  he  called  ti>  explain.  Since  she  had  not 
thought  fit  to  mention  the  rescue,  I  of  course  left  the.  house  and  let 
her  father  remain  in  ignorance  of  the  accident  thai  led  to  our 
meeting." 

"Something  is  wrong  here,"  said  Linda,  half  aside.  "What  you 
have  related,  senor,  is  so  different,  from  what  1  had  to  expect  from 
my  friend,  thai  I  am  confident,  there  must  have  been  a  mistake  whose 
explantion  will  make  everything  plain." 

"It  has  been  to  me  a  serious  drama.  I  wish  it  could  end  a 
comedy  of  errors.  If  Miss  Navarro  had  wished  to  correct  a  mistake. 
made  by  her  father,  she  has  failed  to  profit  by  a  week's  interval  to 
accomplish  it." 

"I  could  clear  this  up  after  a  twenty  minutes'  walk,"  said  Linda, 
half  rising,  as  if  to  go. 

"I  will  not  have  an  arbitration  in  this  matter.  T  would  not  have 
you  go  to  her  as  my  messenger,  after  what  has  happened,  for  the 
whole  of  Texas.'5 

"What,  are  vou  (wo  voung  fools  crowing  about  in  here?'1  asked 
lionito.  poking  his  head  in  at  the  door.  "I  had  something  to  say 
io  Senor  Raymond,  but  you,  worthies-  pigeon,  are  keeping  him 
cooing  and  cooing  like  another  pigeon.  A  pajarro  he  is,  de  veras." 


214  GUY  EAYMOND. 

"What  is  it,  Bonito?     Can't  Linda  hear  it?" 

"Must  a  woman  know  everything?  It  is  not  much  they  can  keep 
and  it  is  little  you  can  keep  from  them.  You  are  young,  senor,  and 
have  much  to  learn  of  women.  They  are  riddles,  even  after  you 
think  you  have  learned  them  by  heart." 

"You  judge  them  by  a  hard  rule,  Bonito/'  said  Guy,  looking  at 
the  girl.  But  he  thought  of  Beatrice  the  next  instant  and  mentally 
concluded  there  was  some  little  philosophy  in  the  jailer's  remarks. 

Taking  leave  of  Linda,  Guy  joined  the  other  in  the  hall.  The  old 
fellow  shut  the  door  carefully,  put  his  hand  softly  on  Guy's  shoulder 
and  with  upturned  head  gave  him  a  quizzical  look  from  the  corners 
of  his  eyes.  This  tableau  was  maintained  only  for  a  moment,  to 
give  impressiveness  to  what  was  probably  to  follow. 

"Has  Senor  Raymondo  the  books  that  Linda  brought  from  the 
monte  pio's?" 

"Yes;  at  San  Fernando." 

"Senor  likes  books?" 

"I  am  fond  of  reading." 

"And  would  like  yet  more  books?" 

"Well,  Bonito,  you  have  somthing  to  say.     Out  with  it." 

"Would  senor  pay  something  for  a  nice  book?" 

"Perhaps  I  would.  It  is  plain  to  see  now,  that  you  have  hatched 
up  a  job  to  get  money  out  of  me,  Bonito.  Come  to  the  point  at  once, 
you  miserly  old  sinner." 

"If  it  should  be — one  of  the  books  you  lost  that  time  when  the 
Indians— 

"A  truce  to  your  preamble,  you  skinflint.     If  you  have  a 
of  mine,  or  any  other  one,  show  it  and  name  your  price." 

"Would — three — four — reals?"  said  Bonito,  hesitating. 

"Not  a  cent,  if  you  keep  this  up  a  minute  longer,"  said 
determinedly. 

Bonito  took  a  step  or  two  to  a  lounge  against  the  opposite 
and  turning  back  the  blanket  which  served  as  a  spread,  drew  forth 
a  book  and  held  it  up. 

"This  must  be  worth  four  reals,  senor.  I  had  trouble  and 
money  to  pay,  besides,  before  I  could  get  it." 

Guy  took  the  volume  and  recognized  it  as  "Wealth  of  Nations," 
from  his  father's  library,  lie  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket  and  drew 
out  the  four  reals,  which  he  handed  to  I  he  jailer.  While  taking  it, 
Bonito  looked  the  picture  of  disappointment  and  self-reproach,  lie 
turned  over  the  piece  of  money  and  glanced  from  it  to  Guy,  who 
was  thoughtfully  regarding  the  recovered  treasure. 


GUY  RAYMOND.  215 

"It  was  worth  more,  or  he  would  not  have  paid  to  readily/' 
Bonito  reflected. 

"Senor,  did  I  not  say  five  reals — or  six?  I  can't  remember 
which  amount  I  said;  my  head  is  so  befuddled.  But  the  book  is 
worth  a  deal.  It  must  be;  for  it  is  larger  than  the  two  that  Linda 
brought,  if  both  were  put  together.  What;  was  it  I  said,  senor — six, 
or  seven  reals?  A  poor  amount  for  such  a  book." 

"Bonita,  where  did  you  find  this?" 

"Xo  mailer,  senor,  since  you  have  it.  But  seven  reals  is  cheap-— 
or  eight  is  nothing  for  such  a  book." 

"Where  will  you  end  presently?  It  is  your  old  game  renewed. 
To  punish  you  for  your  greed  for  reals,  I  shall  not  pay  you  a  cent 
more  than  that  piece  of  money.  I  know  you  well  enough  to  be 
sure  that  you  saved  yourself  in  your  first  demand." 

"Santa  Maria!  Your  ears  are  sealed  with  wax,  or  worse  has 
happened  to  your  hearing.  By  all  the  saints,  it  was  six  I  said  at 
first,  but  contended  last  for  eight.  Senor,  liberty  has  made  you  a 
miser.  As  a  prisoner  you  were  over  generous." 

"Nature  made  you  a  miser,  and  practicing  the  arts  of  one  has 
developed  you  into  a  rogue.  I  would  not  begrudge  you  a  full  peso 
for  tli is  book,  which  has  doubtless  cost  you  nothing;  but  I  wish  to 
cure  you  of  your  penchant  for  lying.  You  first  asked  but  three  reals. 
For  shame!  When  you  have  bags  of  money  hid  away!" 

uValga-me-dios !  Que  mentira . !  Por  dios,  senior!  It  is  little 
nioi  ey  that  I  have.  Bags !  A  glove  would  bold  more  than  I  possess." 

\VIieti  his  visitor  had  left,  Bonito  abused  himself  unmercifully  for 
not  having  been  shrewd  enough  to  secure  more  than  the  trifle  of 
four  reals. 

"But  the  monte  pio  has  more,"  he  muttered.  "He  half  suspected 
that,  I  wanted  it  for  a  purpose  and  not  for  waste-paper.  Que  mala 
fort u rial  I  missed  four  reals  at  least.  A  boy  would  have  managed 
bettor.  Manoel  Canastadomiento — fifty  years  of  life  have  but  made 
you  a  fool.  From  now  on  I  am  willing  to  be  called  'Bonito  the  Ass' !" 

The  addition  to  his  stock  of  reading,  made  by  the  possession  of 
Adam  Smith V  great  work,  furnished  Guy  with  mental  occupation 
while  indoors.  Father  Ignacio  had  placed  several  volumes  of  Spanish 
theological  works  at  his  disposal^  but,  beyond  the  desire  to  improve 
himself  in.  Spanish  instruction,  he  had  little  taste  for  that  kind  of 
literal  iirc.  lie  produced  his  Wealth  of  Nations  to  give  Father 
Ignacio  an  insight  as  to  its  drift,  but  discovered  that  his  host  had 
procured  a  Spanish  translation.  This  proved  a  source  of  gratification 


216  GUY  RAYMOND. 

In   (JtiY,   for  lie    found   diversion,  in   discussing  with    the   priest  the 
theories  advanced  by  the  noted  Scotchman. 


The  very  day  that  (Juv  was  discussing  with  Linda  the  discour- 
aging termination  of  his  intercourse  with  the  Navarros,  the  young 
lady  ol'  that  family  was  conversing  with  her  sister,  the  Senora  A —  — , 
on  the  identical  subject1  that,  engaged  the  attention  of  the  pair  at 
the  caivel  Beatrice  had  not.  been  herself  for  over  a  week.  Her 
changed  manner  and  repeated  abstractions  were  noticed  bv  the  sister, 
who  readily  guessed  the  cause,  nit  hough  she  refrained  from  any 
allusion  that  might  post  the  other  of  her  divination.  On  the  day 
in  question,  however,  the  two  had  been  sitting  together  for  some 
time  in  the  same  apartment  where  they  were  first  found  at  home  by 
the  reader,  without,  having  exchanged  a  word.  The  elder  sister  broke 
the  silence. 

"Bat rice,  did   you  not  write  that  note  to  Senor  Raymond?" 

"I  did." 

"Has  he  replied?" 

"No/3 

"What  do  you  suppose  can  be  the  reason?" 

"Tn<>  deeply  offended,  perhaps,  at    father's  cool  reception." 

"Did  you  explain  clearly  that  father  had  not  been  informed  of 
his  service  to  you?" 

"I  did." 

"Nor  even  of  his  acquaintance  with  you?" 

"Oli,  Jane!  I  told  him  everything,"  said  Beatrice,  petulantly. 
"If  he  is  so  deeply  offended  that  he  can't  get  over  it,  why  let  him 
remain  so." 

"Then  why  take  it  to  heart,  if  you  can  so  easily  discard  the  matter 
and  the  man?" 

"Can't  you  say  something  that  will  not  be  a  question?" 

"My  anxiety  must  be  my  excuse,  sister  mine.  You  have  been 
blue  ever  since  father  informed  us  of  Senor  Raymond's  cool  dis- 
missal." 

'That  everlasting  Mexican  custom  of  having  to  know  every  man 
first,  through  an  introduction  by  the  parents,  has  proved,  in  this 
cas<-.  bow  stupid  it  is.  In  Baltimore,  if  a  man  is  a  gentleman,  he 
may  call  on  a  lady  without  having  to  cut  a  ridiculous  figure  in 
approaches  and  manuevres,  or  be  fro/e  out  by  excruciating  polif.cn 

"You    remember  what  a   time  the  Doctor   had   getting  acquaint 
with  me?" 


Grin:  RAYMOND.  217 

"What   music  is  that?" 

"Look,  Beatrice  and  see." 

The  latter  went  to  a  front  window  and  looked  out  into  the  street. 

".lane,  it  is  the  picadores.  Two  riding  in  front,  and  behind  are 
the  ohulos  playing.  I  wonder  where  they  can  come  from,  and  the 
Tex a  us  around  the  town.  Is  it  not  pretty  music  ?" 

Jane  had  joined  her  at  the  window. 

The  music  came  from  a  curiously  dressed  procession  of  eight 
persons.  Two,  mounted  on  prancing  ponies,  were  dressed  in  the 
fanciest  toggery,  consisting  of  blue  vestments,  glittering  with  numer- 
ous spangles  on  breasts  and  arms.  Scarlet  breeches,  ending  at  the 
knees,  buckled  over  striped  stockings,  while  their  cranium s  were  sur- 
mounted by  close-fitting  skull  caps,  from  which  depended  tails  of 
sonic  ivd  material,  ending  in  tassels.  Underneath  their  right  foiv- 
•inns  each  held  a  long  lance  in  rest,  from  whose  silver  spearhead 
fluttered  a  miniature  silken  flag  displaying  the  colors  of  Mexico. 
The  six  followers  wen1  habited  a  la  zouave,  four  of  them  playing  on 
insi  nimonls  that  produced  the  sweetest  music.  The  remaining  'two 
brought  up  (he  rear,  bearing  crimson  banners  and  armed  with  swords. 
They  passed  on  up  the  street,  turning  the  corner  in  the  direction 
of  Main  I'laza.  The  horsemen  were  picadores,  or  bull  fighters.-  The 
"chulos"  were  assistants,  who  take  certain  parts  in  the  fight  to  attract 
ihe  I  nil's  attention  with  their  red  flags,  or  they  torment  him  by  using 
barbed  darts  or  explosives.  They  are  sometimes  called  "banderil- 
leros."  The  matador  is  the  one  who  finishes  the  animal  by  a  coii/) 
(I i'  <]race.  These  strollers  become  well  known  to  the  towns  and  cities 
of  Mexico,  to  which  they  make  annual  visits,  their  stay  in  a  place 
being  determined  by  the  ability  and  inclination  of  its  population 
in  make  their  performances  remunerative.  From  Beatrice's  remark, 
these  must  have  been  new  arrivals  in  Bexar.  The  attraction  in  the 
street  haying  subsided,  the  ladies  returned  to  their  seats  and  occu- 
pations, the  married  one  to  her  fancy  work,  the  single  one  to  her 
reverie. 

The  latter,  after  ;i  long  silence,  during  which  a  myriad  of  thoughts 
had  coursed  through  her  mind,  turned  to  the  other  and  said  pas- 
sionately : 

"Jane,  I  have  a  presentiment  that.  Josef  a  has  something  to  do 
\\ith.his  not  replying  to  my  note.  Presentiments  rarely  have  deceived 
me.  If  she  has  tricked  me  in  this  instance,  I  will  find  it  out." 


218  GUY  EAYMOND. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

Eight  or  ten  days'  time  that  had  passed  since  the  battle  at  Con- 
ception, produced  noted  changes  in  the  Texan  position  as  well  as  in 
their  forces  and  the  character  of  their  operations.  The  little 
army  had  become  reduced  in  numbers  very  perceptibly  by  the 
leaving  of  many  who  were  disappointed  and  disgusted  because 
an  anticipated  assault  had  settled  down  into  a  seemingly  hopeless 
siege.  The  force  had  been  divided  into  two  camps,  one  above  and 
the  other  below  the  town,  and  each  had  its  scouting  ground  allotted 
to  it,  to  prevent  surprise  and  to  bar  the  ingress  of  reinforcements  as 
well  as  the  egress  of  the  besieged,  in  quest  of  supplies.  The  uj  per 
camp  was  at  an  old  mill  a  mile  or  so  from  the  plaza;  the  lower  one 
near  the  mission  at  the  scene  of  the  recent  engagment.  Patrols  kept 
vigil,  night  and  day,  to  detect  any  movements  of  the  enemy,  while 
an  occasional  show  of  force  within  rifle  shot  of  the  fortifications  wras 
made  to  draw  them  from  their  cover.  The  cautious  Mexicans,  how- 
ever, had  too  recently  tested  the  spirit  of  their  foe  to  venture  without 
the  lines,  and  kept  behind  the  friendly  walls,  well  satisfied  to  await 
the  ever-impending  attack. 

Austin  had  thrown  up  the  command  and  had  left  the  field  for 
the  diplomatic  arena,  where  his  talents  could  be  freely  utilized  for 
the  benefit  of  the  embryo  nation,  whose  star,  just  struggling  on  the 
horizon,  was  soon  to  rise  through  bloody  mists  and  lurid  clouds  of 
treachery  and  massacre,  until  it  should  attain  the  blue  vault  in  the 
system  of  nations,  glowing  and  brilliant  amid  a  halo  of  victory. 

Burleson  succeeded  to  the  command. 

It  was  the  third  night  after  the  battle.  Blustering  winds  blew 
hither  and  yon;  the  ragged,  low-flying  clouds  that  appeared  to  touch 
the  mission's  tower,  dimly  outlined  against  their  lighter  shade  or 
obscured  by  their  darker  shadows  .  The  night  had  grown  wilder  in 
the  short  hour  since  the  twilight  had  merged  into  its  deeper  gloom, 
and  the  increasing  winds,  true  to  no  point  of  compass,  sighed  through 
the  openings  and  whistled  around  the  corners  of  its  massive  walls. 
Far  across  the  opening  where  its  western  side  was  fringed  with 
timber,  a  number  of  fires  throwing  their  lights  among  the  foliage 
marked  the  new  camp  where  lay  Bowie's  detachment,  composing  the 
force  that  invested  the  lower  side  of  the  city. 

A  solitary  figure,  scarcely  discernible  in  the  obscurity,  paced  uj 
and  down  before  the  great  door  giving  entrance  to  the  church. 


GUY  RAYMOND.  21'J 

rifle  resting  carelessly  upon  his  shoulder,  a  powder  horn  swung  by 
his  side  would,  in  a  better  light,  have  shown  him  to  be  a  sentinel 
of  the  Texan  army.  He  made  a  few  more  strides  upon  his  beat, 
then,  turning  suddenly  to  the  door,  he  rested  his  gun  against  the 
side,  and  seated  himself  upon  the  sill. 

"I'll  be  d d  if  I  walk  here  any  longer.  There  is  no  sense 

anyway  keeping  watch  here." 

The  speaker  said  this  in  a  grumbling  tone,  then  making  himself 
comfortable,  he  gave  a  yawn  and  lowered  his  head  over  on  his  knees. 

"Come,  Perry,  you  are  wrong-,  boy.  Here's  the  mission.  It  is 
so  dark  I  did  not  discern  the  grand  old  pile.  The  house  that  con- 
tains our  invilad  is  over  here." 

"I  believe  you  are  right,  Mr.  Hamilton." 

The  voices  were  distinctly  heard  by  the  sentinel,  who,  remaining 
perfectly  still,  peered  through  the  darkness  and,  without  catching 
a  certain  glimpse  of  their  figures,  heard  the  footfalls  of  the  speakers. 

"What  the  devil  are  they  going  to  see  old  Trigg  for?"  he  mut- 
tered, as  taking  his  gun  he  rose  and  went  to  the  corner  of  the  build- 
ing to  listen.  The  parties  attracting  his  attention  had  made  for  the 
rear  of  the  mission,  and  he  could  hear  their  voices  in  the  distance. 

"I'll  follow  them  and  see  what's  up.  Old  Trigg  and  Hamilton 
have  no  use  for  me  since  I  boxed  that  boy.  It  must  be  a  full  hour 
before  the  relief,  and  I  will  have  time  to  get  back  on  post." 

So  saying,  the  recreant  followed  the  direction  taken  by  the  speakers. 
He  gained  the  rear  of  the  wing  that  joined  the  structure  just  in 
time  to  see  the  fresada  raised  that  hung  within  Locaria's  door  and 
the  parties  enter.  Moving  now  more  cautiously  along,  he  made  a 
slight  detour  to  the  right  and  approached  the  jacal  from  the  further 
side.  He  gained  the  wall  and,  crouching  down,  put  his  ear  to  one 
of  several  small  crevices  and  heard  quite  distinctly  a  conversation 
carried  on  within. 

Inside  the  jacal  a  tallow  candle  was  burning  on  a  small  shelf 
projecting  from  the  wall.  The  light  afforded  by  its  tiny  flame  was 
in  the  brighter  glow  proceeding  from  the  hearth  in  the  end  of 
the  apartment.  Mr.  Trigg  was  lying  on  the  bed  where  Father 
Ignacio  had  communed  with  him  in  pantomime.  Perry  and  Ham- 
iltf ,-n  were  sitting  near  him,  while  little  Locaria  stood  in  an  opposite 
corner,  looking  in  admiration  at  the  handsome  American  with  raven 
lock-  and  fancy  boots. 

"It's  glad  I  am  to  see  you  both  looking  so  fine,"  said  Mr.  Trigg, 
after  the  two  had  greeted  him  and  established  themselves  in  seats. 

"I  am  happy  to  be  able  to  return  the  compliment,"  said  Hamilton. 


220  Guv  KAY  MOM). 


nd   myself 


"You   are  not  looking   worse    for   your   wound.      Perry   and   myse 
would   liavo   been   over   yesterday   if   we   had   not   been   on   a  scout 
north  of  town." 

"We  came  just  as  soon  as  we  get  your  message/'  said  Perry. 

"I'm  satisfied  you  did,  my  boy.  I  wanted  to  see  you  and  Mr. 
Hamilton  for  to  take  you  into  a  secret  that  it  wouldn't  do  to  have 
die  with  me." 

"Die  with  you !  Why,  just  now  you  said  that  two  or  three  days 
would  see  you  up  and  about/'  said  Hamilton. 

"Oh!  Wait  a  bit.  You  haven't  a  clear  idea  of  my  meaning. 
Tt  is  not  of  this  wound  I'm  thinking  that  will  be  killing  me.  Some 
other  bullet  may  have  a  surer  aim,  Mr.  Hamilton,,  and  then  it  will 
be  too  late.  It  is  against  the  danger  of  not  being  able  to  say  what  I 
wihli  to  say  at  all,  that  I  want  to  guard.  In  two  or  three  days  I 
shall  be  as  well  as  ever  of  this,  so  far  as  moving  about  is  concerned." 

"That  puts  the  whole  situation  decidedly  in  a  more  optimistic 
light,  Mr.  Trigg.     We  miss  you  sadly  in  the  mess  and  I  rejoice  to 
think  that  in  so  short  a  time  you  will  be  with  us  again.     So  far  as 
making  me  and  my  amiable  young  friend,  Perry,  here  the  depositories 
of  your  secret  as   a  precaution   against  those  emergencies   brought 
about  by  the  vicissitudes  of  war,  I  assure  you  we  are  at  your  service 
and   are  anxious  to  hear  what  you  have  to  impart;  not  from  an 
morbid  curiosity,  but  from  a  sincere  desire  to  serve  you.     What 
you,  Perry?" 

"Mr.  Trigg  knows  he  can  rely  on  me." 

"Laconic,  truly  laconic,  my  boy,"  said  Hamilton,  slapping  Per 
on   the  shoulder,  "but  your  words  contain  a  world  of  meaning  and 
a  volume  of  eloquence  might  be  deduced  from  them  in  a  tribute 
friendship  and  confidence." 

"Yon  should  have  been  a  stump  speaker,  Mr.  Hamilton.  Y 
an-  so  ready  with  words,  and  can  say  so  much  about  nothing.  Y 
could  make  a  fortune  in  Mississippi." 

"I  have  come  to  Texas  to  make  one.  If  this  war  terminates 
favorable  to  us,  my  voice  may  be  heard  in  the  councils  of  a  young 
luiiinii.  In  the  American  revolution  were  men  who  afterwards  be- 
came nearly  deified,  but  who  really  were  commonplace  and  without 
any  brilliant  traits  to  justify  the  characters  they  have  been  credited 
with  by  postcriiy.  Tim  sums*  of  the  struggle  shed  such  a  halo 
of  -lory  on  the  army  and  public  men  that  it  concealed  every  fault 
and  magnified  every  virtue.  There  is  nothing  which  succeeds  like 
success,  Mr.  Trigg." 

your    pardon    for    interrupting   you — it   is   sure    I    a 


GUY  RAYMOND.  221 

that  you're  right;  but  let  me  talk  about  what  I  had  a  mind  to  tell 
you,  and  after  I  am  up  we  can  talk  about  all  them  things  over  the 
camp  fire.  Perry,  did  you  bring  the  wallet?" 

"Here  it  is,  sir." 

Perry  drew  from  his  breast  and  handed  him  a  leather  pouch,  not 
dissimilar  to  the  kind  usually  carried  on  stage  coaches  for  way  mail. 
Mr.  Trigg  unwound  a  buckskin  string  from  the  wallet  and  opening 
it,  looked  among  its  contents  until  he  found  what  he  wanted. 

"Here  is  what  I  was  looking  for,"  he  said,  holding  up  a  stained 
paper  tied  with  a  piece  of  faded  red  tape. 

"That  is  the  secret  that  you— 

"Please  be  quiet  a  bit,  Mr.  Hamilton,  and  you'll  know  about  it, 
and  the  less  you  and  Perry  say,  the  sooner  you  will  be  after  know- 
ing  it." 

"Leave  out  the  boy,  Mr.  Trigg.  Fll  try  to  keep  quiet.  So 
proceed." 

"Thank  ye  sir.  But  first  I  want  you  to  promise  that  what  ] 
will  be  after  saying  to  you  will  not  be  repeated;  that  you  are  to  do 
no  more  than  to  think  about  it  and  that  you  solemnly  promise  me 
never  to  take  advantage  of  the  knowledge  of  it,  without  I  am  killed 
before  we  take  the  town  above.  Do  you  promise  this,  Mr.  Hamilton?" 

"I  do,"  replied  Hamilton,  biting  his  lips  to  suppress  a  flow  of 


What  say  you,  Perry?" 
"I  promise  to  do  as  you  wish." 

"I  am  beating  you  on  laconics,  Perry,  but  it  costs  an  effort." 
"I  took  a  liking  to  you,  Mr.  Hamilton,  since  I  got  to  know  you 
well,  for  at  first  you  talked  so  much  and  used  words  so  uncommon 
that  I  was  almost  forninst  you.  But  I  have  seen  you  in  much,  that 
tries  men,  for  honesty  and  fairness,  and  I  soon  saw  you  was  all 
right.  You  seem  to  have  to  boil  over  like  a  brimming  kettle  onco  in 
a  while,  so  full  you  are  of  words  and  information.  What  I  have 
to  tell  you  and  Perry  will  open  up  a  bit  of  my  past  life.  It's  a 
little  ashamed  I  am  of  it,  now;  but  that  is  all  bygones,  and  with  the 
help  of  the  saints  I'll  try  to  do  only  good  in  time  to  come.  When 
quite  a  lad  I  came  to  New  Orleans  on  a  clipper  that  sailed  from 
New  York,  working  my  passage,  for  I  had  a  sailor  experience  in  the 
coasting  trade  in  the  old  country.  I  had  little  money,  and  being  a 
stranger  in  the  city  I  knocked  around  for  a  month  or  so,  doing  odd 
jobs,  and  had  a  berth  at  a  sailor's  roost  on  the  levee.  After  a  bit 
I  foil  in  with  a  good-looking  man  who  came  around  the  roost  more 
than  a  dozen  times,  and  who  used  to  visit  the  shipping  and  talk 

15-r 


222  GUY  RAYMOND. 

with  the  idle  sailors  on  the  wharves.  I  was  a  bright  and  active  chap 
then  and  the  man  took  a  fancy  to  me.  One  day  he  told  me  he  was 
the  captain  of  a  fine  vesel  that  lay  in  the  gulf,  and  asked  me  how 
I  would  like  to  ship  with  him.  I  didn't  give  him  an  answer  at  once. 
Before  I  made  up  my  mind  I  was  after  finding  out  his  ship  to  be  a 
privateer,  and  that  he  was  cruising  against  Spanish  commerce.  This 
much  he  told  me  from  his  own  lips  as  a  secret.  To  cut  my  story 
short,  I  agreed  to  ship  with  him,  as  he  said  the  prize  money  would 
pay  fine,  and  that  took  my  eye.  The  day  came  for  us  to  leave  the 
city  and  I  shall  never  forget  the  bayous  and  the  crooked  ways  we 
took  to  reach  the  ship.  To  cut  short  again,  I  found  myself,  at  the 
end  of  forty-eight  hours,  on  Barrataria  Island  an  enlisted  sailor 
under  the  banner  of  Lafitte,  the  pirate  of  the  Gulf." 

"Lafitte!     Jean  Pierre  Anatole  Lafitte,  the  pi !" 

"Please  dont?  bile  over  now,  Mr.  Hamilton.  You  see  Perry  is 
listening  and  not  saying  a  word." 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Trigg— I— 

"You  are  excused,  sir,  without  the  asking.  I  am  not  going  to 
tell  you  about  Lafitte,  or  what  I  saw  or  did  under  him  in  the  six 
years  I  followed  his  fortunes.  I  just  wished  ye  to  know  how  I  came 
to  get  into  such  company,  for  getting  with  such  is  how  1  camfc  to  have 
the  secret  that  you  and  Perry  are  to  know. 

Outside  of  the  house  a  noise,  as  of  some  falling  article,  startled 
;hose  within.  A  silence  followed,  which  was  ended  by  Mr.  Trigg 
suggesting  that  the  others  go  out  to  ascertain  the  cause.  The  little 
Mexican  woman,  who  had  been  quiet  in  the  corner,  said  to  Perry 
in  Spanish  that  the  noise  was  similar  to  that  which  would  be  made 
by  the  falling  of  a  gun.  The  latter  and  Hamilton  went  out,  and, 
after  some  minutes,  returned  reporting  that  nothing  could  be  seen 
to  explain  the  noise  which  had  interrupted  them.  When  the  two 
had  re-entered  the  jacal,  the  figure  of  the  listener  emerged  from 
the  shadow  of  a.  tree  and  crept  back  to  the  rear  wall  of  Locaria's 
abode.  As  he  did  so  he  muttered: 

"That  d d  gun  like  to  have  betrayed  me.  It  won't  do  so 

again.  One  of  Lafitte's  men!  What  can  that  secret  be?  He  is  a 
fine  specimen  to  be  preaching  virtue  and  fairness,  and  training  up 
that  young  angel,  Perry.  A  pirate!  Ha!  Ha!" 

Ducio  settled  himself  down  and  placed  his  ear  close  to  a  crevice 
indicated  by  a  ray  of  light  issuing  from  the  room. 

"Among  the  crew  of  the  ship,  which  was  a  fore  and  aft  Spanish 
brig  and  a  fine  sailer,  was  a  Portugese  gunner  who  became  my  friend. 
As  he  was  a  favorite  of  the  commander,  I  had  a  very  nice  time  at 


GUY  RAYMOND.  22:3 

the  start,  learning  the  ways  of  the  men  and  the  duties  to  be  per- 
formed. This  man  served  with  me  off  and  on  fpr  the  six  years;  for 
sometimes  it  would  happen,  in  the  changing  fortunes  of  Lafitte,  that 
ships  would  he  lost  or  abandoned  and  crews  separated  to  serve  apart 
until  we  joined  each  other  again  in  port.  My  friendship  with 
the  old  gunner,  for  he  was  a  purty  old  man,  Mr.  Hamilton,  con- 
tinued without  interruption.  1  was  a  lad  that  always  respected 
authority  and  never  had  a  cross  word.  The  crews  of  Lafitte's  vessels 
made  lots  of  money  while  at  Barrataria ;  but  it  was  the  second  year 
after  I  shipped  that  the  navy  made  us  leave  Uncle  Sam's  coast,  and 
after  we  went  to  Galveston  for  a  rendezvous,  the  men  were  always 
discontented  about  the  prize  money.  They  were  extravagant  devils 
and  saved  nothing,  as  a  rule.  A  few  buried  their  treasure  or  other- 
wise put  it  by  for  worse  times.  After  being  forced  away  from  Barra- 
taria there  was  more  of  a  watch  kept  upon  Lafitte's  rovers,  and  he 
and  his  chief  men  began  to  see  that  not  many  months  more  would 
he  left  to  the  business  they  was  in.  This  made  them  more  anxious 
to  save  their  swag,  and  to  be  stingy  in  paying  it  over  to  the  sailors. 
The  old  gunner  was  lacking  just  a  little  of  being  a  miser.  He  always 
got-  a  liberal  allowance  from  Lafitte,  for  he  was  as  good  with  a  cannon 
as  a  marksman  with  a  rifle.  I  have  seen  him  in  a  rough  sea,  that 
would  hardly  leave  legs  on  the  oldest  seamen,  fire  on  the  rise  and 
ctH,  ;iw;iy  the  mainmast  of  a  cha.se.  This  made  him  a  favorite,  while 
the  common  men  thought  he  was  a  kind  of  supernatural.  They 
would  not  have  grumbled  if  he  had  got  half  the  prize  money,  after 
doing  one  of  his  feats  with  his  gun." 

"Can't  you  tell  us  of  one  of  those  chases,  Mr.  Trigg;  it  would 
be  inter — 

"I  asked  ye  to  be  quiet,  Mr.  Hamilton.  What  I  am  telling  ye 
is  to  prepare  for  the  secret,  and  sure  it's  enough  to  have  one  thing 
in  view  at  a  time.  What  I  am  trying  to  tell  ye  is  business,  and  the 
shortest  way  to  it  is  the  best  way.  Eemember,  it's  under  your  solemn 
promise  I'm  letting  you  know  these  things.  It's  not  to  be  breathed." 

"I'll  try  not  to  forget  again,  sir." 

"The  gunner  saved  his  money,  as  I  was  very  sure  of;  but  it  was 
not  until  long  after  Lafitte  had  broken  up  that  I  found  it  out  from 
his  own  lips  in  New  Orleans.  The  old  fellow  got  to  be  a  perfect 
miser,  and  lived  by  himself  in  the  humblest  way,  in  a  little  bit  of 
a  ereole  house  near  the  French  market.  I  was  some  time  in  the  city 
before  I  found  his  whereabouts,  but  after  I  dropped  in  to  see  him 
on"  and  on  for  a  year  or  so,  when  one  day  I  found  him  very  sick. 
The  next  day  the  old  woman  he  rented  from  sent  her  boy  to  hunt  me. 


224  GUY  BAYMOND. 

When  I  got  there  my  friend  was  speechless,  but  sensible.  He  made 
known  by  signs  that  he  thought  he  was  about  to  die,  making  me 
understand  as  well  as  he  could,  poor  man,  that  he  wanted  me  to 
attend  to  some  business.  I  took  a  key  from  beneath  his  pillow  and 
unlocked  the  chest  that  was  near,  in  full  sight  of  him.  It  held  his 
clothes,  some  money  in  Spanish  doubloons,  and  a  packet  of  papers. 
The  poor  fellow  made  me  understand  that  he  wanted  to  leave  me 
what  he  had  in  the  house,  likewise  the  papers  on  which  he  seemed  to 
set  great  store.  I  got  his  landlady  to  care  for  him  while  I  went  for 
a  doctor;  but  he  died  that  night  without  a  pain.  The  old  gunner 
had  worn  out." 

Mr.  Trigg  here  paused  for  a  while.  The  two  listeners  inside  had 
paid  the  closest  attention  as  the  narrative  progressed.  Locaria,  not 
comprehending  a  word,  sat  indifferent  and  motionless,  save  when  she 
gave  the  fire  a  poke,  or  mechanically  turned  her  head  without  any 
apparent  purpose.  The  listener  outside  impatiently  muttered: 

"Why  don't  the  old  devil  go  on?  It  will  soon  be  time  for  the 
relief." 

"This  paper,"  continued  Mr.  Trigg,  "was  among  those  in  the 
package.  There  was  also  a  will,  leaving  all  he  had  to  me.  No  doubt 
this  piece  of  paper  is  worth  a  great  deal.  The  old  man  went  to  Mexico 
after  the  break-up  at  Galveston.  From  Mexico  he  went  to  Orleans, 
passing  through  the  very  town  we  are  now  trying  to  take.  He 
stopped  in  San  Antonio  with  a  countryman  of  his,  and  left  with  him 
some  valuable  papers  that,  if  I  had  them,  would  tell  me  where  a 
great  portion  of  his  treasure  is  now  buried.  A  lawyer  in  Orleans 
thought  that  it  was  hid  up  here;  but  I  know  it  is  on  the  island." 

"Galveston  island?"  interrupted  Perry. 

"Galveston  island,"  answered  Mr.  Trigg. 

"Perry,  you  interrupted  that  time." 

"But  he  was  laconic,"  said  Mr.  Trigg,  smiling. 

"This  paper,"  continued  the  narrator,  "gives  the  name  of  the 
in  San  Antonio  who  has  the  documents  that  will  show  the  bearings. 
I  could  never  remember  the  name.  Bring  the  light,  Mr.  Hamilton, 
and  let  us  see  if  we  can  make  it  out." 

Hamilton  brought  the  tallow  dip  from  its  shelf  and  Mr.  Trigg, 
rising  on  his  elbow,  opened  the  paper.  Hamilton,  advancing  the 
light,  stooped  to  scrutinize  the  name,  while  Perry  tiptoed  and  peered 
over  his  shoulder.  Hamilton,  after  spelling  it  through,  slowly  pro- 
nounced, syllable  by  syllable,  the  name  indicated  by  Mr.  Trigg's 
linger : 

"Man-o-el — Can-as-ta-do-mi-en-to." 


jneans 

id.» 

le  man 


GUY  RAYMOND.  225 

"All  three  pronounced  the  formidable  name. 

The  listener  outside  made  a  mental  memorandum  of  the  ten 
liquid  syllables. 

"This  paper,"  continued  Mr.  Trigg,  "will  be  on  my  body  if  I 
be  killed,  before  I  can  see  the  man  with  this  long  name.  My  will 
is  here  with  it,  and  if  such  a  mischance  should  happen  to  me,  you 
or  Perry,  or  both  will  be  my  executors.  What  I  have  got,  and  this 
treasure,  if  it  ever  be  found,  will  belong  to  Guy  Raymond,  and  to 
Stella,  his  sister.  The  oth«r  paper  is,  I  am  thinking,  of  service  to 
find  what  the  poor  old  gunner  buried,  and  is  no  doubt  in  the  posses- 
sion of  this  Manoel  What-ye-May-Call-It,  who  is  in  the  town  beyond." 

"There  were  sounds  of  footsteps  outside,"  said  Locaria,  in  Spanish. 

Perry  interpreted  her  words. 

They  all  listened. 

The  eavesdropper  had  heard  the  approach  of  the  relief  and  has- 
tened to  his  post. 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

iy  the  ghost  of  Lord  Dalrymple !  I  am  glad  to  see  you  about 
again,  Mr.  Trigg." 

"I'm  blowed  ef  I  ain't  proud  to  see  the  old  gent." 

"Welcome,  Mr.  Trigg." 

Such  were  the  salutations  from  Jones,  Nathan  Roach  and  Karnes, 
as  their  convalescent  messmate  walked  up  to  where  preparations  were 
being  made  for  the  evening  meal,  Jones  acting  as  chief  cook.  Hamil- 
ton and  Perry  came  with  him,  having  gone  to  Locaria's  jacal  for  the 
purpose  of  accompanying  him  to  the  camp. 

"He  would  have  been  back  before  this,  if  Perry  and  myself  had 
not  objected  to  his  leaving  a  roof  too  soon,"  said  Hamilton. 

"When  did  you  and  Mr.  Karnes  get  back,  Mr.  Roach?"  asked 
Perry. 

"About  half  an  hour.    We  tuck  some  Greasers  and  brought  'em  in." 

J"Are  they  from  town?"  asked  Hamilton. 
"No.     They  was  making  for  town  and  we  naturally  swooped  'em 
in.     The  head  feller  says  he's  a  bull-fighter.     That  Mexican,  Ruiz, 
w;is  out.  with  us  and  he  kinder  scraped  up  kin  with  him.     There 
they  come  now,  and  Ruiz  with  'em." 

As  Nathan  ceased  speaking,  Ruiz  was  seen  approaching  with  five 
oihcr  mounted  Mexicans,  one  of  them  leading  a  pack  mule. 

They  halted  near  the  mess  fire,  and  by  direction  of  Ruiz,  the 
strangers  dismounted. 


226  GUY  BAYMOND. 

"The  colonel  says  he  has  no  objection  to  these  men  passing  into 
town,  Mr.  Karnes.  So  with  your  permission,  they  will  rest  here 
tonight,  and  tomorrow  I  will  go  in  with  them/' 

"You!"  said  Karnes.  "Old  Cos  would  have  your  head  on  a  pole 
before  tomorrow  night." 

"In  that  case,  my  time  will  have  come.     But,  seriously,  I 
going;  but  pretty  well  disguised.     Gentlemen,  let  me  introduce 
you  my  cousin,   Senor  Trevino.     He  cannot  speak  English,  but  he 
knows  how  to  fight  bulls,  and  that  is  his  business." 

The  mess  saluted  Senor  Trevino. 

"How  can  you  disguise  yourself,  Buiz?"  asked  Hamilton,  "when 
you  are  so  well  known  in  town?" 

"Easy  enough.  A  razor  will  remove  this  beard,  and  a  costume 
in  that  pack  will  transform  me  into  a  bull  fighter." 

"Your  awkwardness  may  betray  you." 

"My  cousin  there  cannot  beat  me  sticking  to  a  horse;  and  then 
I  need  not  go  too  actively  to  performing  in  my  new  calling." 

After  the  mess  had  partaken  of  supper,  Senor  Trevino  caused 
his  four  attendants  to  produce  their  instruments,  consisting  of  harp, 
clarionette,  violin  and  flute,  and  to  play  for  the  entertainment  of 
their  captors  and  hosts.  The  music  rendered  was  beautiful  and  as 
the  sweet  strains  filled  the  air  they  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
soldiers  from  other  parts  of  the  camp,  until  quite  a  crowd  gathe 
to  listen.  The  youngsters  cleared  a  space  around  the  fire  and  i 
dulged  in  a  regular  break-down.  This  was  succeeded  by  jigs  bo 
rowed  from  plantation  life.  The  fun  reached  its  climax  when  Nathan 
sprang  into  the  arena  and  began  a  series  of  gyrations  that  woul 
have  shamed  a  whirling  dervish.  He  cut  a  pigeon  wing  as  he 
nounced  it  to  be,  and  shuffled  from  side  to  side,  while  his  awkw 
lank  anatomy  assumed  divers  contortions,  culminating  in  a  spring 
in  the  air  and  an  Indian  warwhoop  that  would  have  done  credit  to  a 
Lipan.  The  diversions  had  lasted  some  time,  when,  to  the  surprise 
of  the  crowd,  two  fancifully-habited  men  appeared  and  occupied 
bpace  now,  vacated  by  Nathan.  One  said,  in  broken  English: 

"Gentlemen,  this  in  Senor  Trevoni,  the  celebrated  juggler  a 
bull-fighter.  He  has  been  so  well  treated  by  the  soldiers  of  t 
camp  that  he  proposes  to  give  you  an  exhibition  of  his  powers  as 
juggler.  Tomorrow  he  will  go  into  San  Antonio,  where  he  wil 
remain  until  you  take  the  town,  when  he  will  show  you  how  he  c 
conquer  a  bull." 

The  soldiers  gave  a  cheer  at  the  mention  of  the  capture  of  S 
Antonio. 


Duld 
ard, 


GUY  RAYMOND.  227 

"Who  is  that  fellow  who  introduced  him?"  inquired  Jones. 

"One  of  his  men.    There  were  five/'  replied  Hamilton. 

"He  makes  six/'  said  Karnes.     "Call  Ruiz,  he  probably  knows." 

Ruiz  could  not  be  found.  Meantime,  Trevoni  had  a  cloth  spread 
upon  the  ground  and  one  of  his  men  produced  swords,  daggers,  balls 
and  other  articles  with  which  he  was  to  exhibit  his  skill.  His  per- 
formances were  really  marvellous.  It  was  no  effort  for  him  to  keep 
four  sharp  daggers  whirling  around  and  above  him  without  letting 
one  drop  to  the  ground,  and  finally  making  two  of  them  disappear, 
apparently  down  his  throat,  while  he  caught  the  other  two.  The 
performer  amused  them  for  an  hour  by  his  feats,  when  he  bowed 
himself  away,  and  his  pleased  audience  dispersed. 

The  person  who  had  introduced  the  performer  stood  looking  on 
all  the  time  with  folded  arms.  When  the  crowd  had  retired,  he 
went  close  to  Karnes,  and  said  in  his  natural  tone  of  voice: 

"Karnes,  don't  you  recognize  me?" 

"What!     Ruiz!" 

"Yes;  pretty  well  disguised,  eh?" 

"Your  mother  would  not  know  you,  with  your  beard  off  and  in 
that  toggery.  But  how  could  you  make  such  a  change  in  so  short  a 
time?" 

"We  went  up  to  Locaria's  and  Trevino  took  off  my  beard  in  five 
minutes  and  furnished  this  costume." 

"You  can  go  into  town  now,  if  you  will  keep  your  voice  changed." 

"And  Fm  going." 

The  next  day  the  sun  was  high  up  when  the  Mexican  party, 
with  Ruiz  added  to  their  number,  rode  out  of  the  Texan  camp, 
dressed  in  their  costumes.  Ruiz  and  Trevino  were  the  most  con- 
spicuously dressed,  and  carried  long  lances  with  polished  steel  spear- 
heads. The  four  others  were  in  fancy  attire,  and  carried  their  instru- 
ments. The  troops  gave  them  a  parting  cheer  as  the  cavalcade  passed 
out  by  the  San  Jose  road  leading  to  the  river. 

Leaving  Ruiz  with  the  bull-fighters  to  proceed  on  their  destination, 
let  us  turn  to  other  incidents  of  the  camp  before  we  follow  him  to 
see  what  adventures  will  befall  his  incognito  appearance  among  his 
enemies. 

After  Ducio  Halfen  had  become  possessed  of  Mr.  Trigg's  secret, 
his  mind  gave  him  no  rest  for  thinking  of  the  buried  treasure  that 
lay  somewhere  waiting  only  the  turning  of  a  little  earth  to  disclose 
its  presence  to  the  fortunate  one  who  should  first  reach  the  still 
doubtfully  located  spot.  He  no  longer  messed  with  the  men  with 
whom  his  first  introduction  to  the  reader  found  him.  His  surly 


22S  GUY  BAYMOND. 

disposition  had  made  him  unbearable  as  a  companion,  and  his  dis- 
agreeable conduct  had  culminated  in  his  unwarranted  attack  on 
Perry.  That  he  was  mean  and  treacherous  has  been  abundantly 
shown  by  his  acts,  the  last  and  most  despicable  of  which  was  the 
desertion  of  his  post  and  his  eavesdropping  in  the  rear  of  Locaria's 
jacal.  He  as  fully  possessed  Mr.  Trigg's  secret  as  either  of  the  other 
two  to  whom  the  old  Irishman  had  detailed  it  for  a  purpose.  Its 
possession  had  helped  the  more  fully  to  develop  the  innate  fiendish- 
ness  that  controlled  his  nature  and  prompted  his  acts.  He  thought 
and  dreamed  of  the  treasure.  His  imagination  took  in  the  possible 
career  of  the  gulf  pirates  and  he  reveled  in  thoughts  of  the  chases 
and  the  captures  of  rich  prizes;  the  division  of  plunder,  and  the 
secreting  of  pots  filled,  to  the  brim  with  Spanish  gold.  He  repeated 
the  long  name  he  had  heard  pronounced,  going  over  its  many  syllables 
from  time  to  time,  until  he  reached  the  camp  and  a  light,  where  he 
could  write  it  in  memorandum.  Concocting  a  plan  of  action  was 
the  duty  of  the  succeeding  days,  during  which  he  was  reticent  and 
passed  every  possible  moment  alone.  If  he  finally  matured  anything 
from  the  diabolical  ramifications  of  his  evil  mind  remains  to  be 
developed  by  subsequent  acts. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  day  that  the  picadores  left 
the  camp,  that  Captain  Bowie,  while  returning  from  an  observation 
of  the  enemy's  lines  from  the  battlements  of  the  mission,  found 
Ducio  waiting  for  him  in  the  path  leading  to  his  headquarters.  The 
Creole  accosted  him : 

"Captain,  I  would  like  to  say  a  word  to  you/' 

"Well,  sir." 

"I  want  to  go  into  San  Antonio." 

"That's  the  wish  of  the  whole  army." 

"But  it  is  a  matter  of  business  with  me." 

"Something  on  your  own  private  account?" 

"Some  news   I   have  heard,  that  affects  me  privately  makes 
necessary  for  me  to  go  th&re." 

"Have  you  been  communicating  with  town?" 

"It  is  nothing  I  have  heard  from  town.  It  is  purely  my  private 
business,  or  I  would  tell  you.  I  thought  it  best  to  make  you 
acquainted  with  my  intentions,  and  get  permission  to  pass  from  you? 
lines  into  those  of  the  enemy.  Besides,  I  might  make  my  presence 
there  of  service  to  you." 

"As  a  spy?" 

"Well — yes — as  a  spy." 

"I  am  aware,  Mr.  Half  en,  that  you  are  not  enlisted,  and  have 


GUY  RAYMOND.  229 

only  done  duty  thus  far  voluntarily.  But  I  feel  as  if  you  and  Mr. 
Hamilton,  who  has  been  serving  the  same  way,  through  the  courtesy 
of  the  officers,  are  as  much  soldiers  as  the  rest,  and  as  bound  to  obey 
orders  as  any.  Yet,  if  you  now  say  you  wish  to  leave  the  command 
I  shall  not  object.  It  seems  to  me  to  be  of  doubtful  propriety  to 
allow  you  to  enter  the  enemy's  lines  unless  it  be  in  the  service  of 
Texas." 

"The  fact  of  my  coming  for  permission  proves  I  wished  to  do 
right/' 

"That  is  plausable.  But  are  you  not  afraid  the  Mexicans  will 
suspect  you  and  take  your  scalp?" 

"No,  for  I  have  not  belonged  to  the  army,  and  can  pass  myself 
off  for  a  Frenchman.  I  speak  the  language,  and  have  papers  from 
the  French  consul  in  New  Orleans." 

"But  you  are  a  native  of  Louisiana." 

"True.  The  papers  I  brought  through  prudence.  The  French 
consul  is  a  relation  of  my  father." 

"When  do  you  wish  to  go?" 

"Before  tomorrow  morning." 

"Come  to  my  camp  in  an  hour.  Perhaps  I  may  have  a  com- 
mission for  you  besides  the  permit  you  wish." 

Ducio's  face  assumed  a  satisfied  expression  a*s  he  left  the  officer 
and  took  himself  to  his  camp  to  make  ready  for  a. trip.  His  quarters 
were  soon  reached  and  without  making  any  unnecessary  demonstra- 
tion he  began  to  prepare  for  his  move,  with  or  without  the  consent 
of  the  military  authorities.  His  blankets  were  snugly  rolled  and 
strapped  and  the  little  odds  and  ends,  besides  his  clothing,  were 
stowed  in  a  pair  of  capacious  saddle  bags.  His  whole  kit  put  in 
order,  he  placed  it  suspended  from  a  limb  of  a  tree  convenient  for 
his  reach,  when  occasion  should  come  for  him  to  take  it  unperceived. 
To  questions  from  messmates,  who  saw  his  movements,  he  explained 
that  Captain  Bowie  had  some  night  work  for  a  squad,  which  he  was 
to  accompany. 

"You  are  a  kind  of  favorite  with  Bowie,"  said  one. 

"And  not  regular  mustered,  neither,"  said  another. 

"Him  and  Hamilton  are  too  fancy  fixed  for  soldiers,"  said  the 
first. 

"But  they's  fell  out.     What  was  it  about,  Half  en?" 

"Nothing  much,"  said  Ducio,  indifferently,  wishing  to  humor 
them.  "I  slapped  over  a  saucy  boy,  and  he  took  it  it  up.  I  may 
]i;u<»  been  in  the  wrong.' 

Before   night   closed   Ducio   had   visited   headquarters   and   came 


230  GUY  EAYMOND. 

away  with  the  consent  of  the  commander,  after  a  lengthy  interview, 
to  which  two  other  officers  were  admitted.  His  steps  were  directed 
a  glade  that  nestled  in  a  curve  of  the*  river  below  the  camp,  wh 
were  grazing  several  horses  secured  to  stakes.  One  of  these  he  a 
proached,  and  unfastening  the,  rope  coiled  it  up  in  his  hand,  secu 
it  with  a  loop  and  led  the  animal  to  the  rear  of  the  position  occupied 
by  his  mess.  Darkness  had  now  set  in.  The  forms  of  men  and 
objects  of  camp  furniture  could  be  seen  here  and  there  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  camp  fires.  Notwithstanding  the  sanction  of  the 
commander,  the  conscience  of  Ducio  was  guilty  and  his  stealthy, 
cat-like  movements  were  clearly  indicative  of  the  illegitimate  purpose 
impelling  him  to  proceed  upon  the  errand  he  had  conceived.  He 
did  not  bring  his  horse  more  closely  for  fear  of  observation,  and  he 
succeeded  in  fully  caparisoning  him  ready  for  departure  without 
having  attracted  the  attention  of  anyone.  This  done,  Ducio  boldly 
stalked  into  camp,  joining  his  party  as  they  were  dividing  up  the 
supper. 

"Hello,  pard !     Thought  you  was  goin'  to  sup  at  headquarters," 
said   one. 

"They  did  not  have  politeness  enough  to  ask  me." 

When  his  mess  had  concluded  their  meal  Ducio  was  restless  until 
he  made  up  his  mind  to  leave.  He  told  the  men  he  had  to  go  back 
to  see  Captain  Bowie  and  left  in  a  direction  proper  to  carry  out 
such  a  purpose ;  but  when  out  of  sight  he  made  a  detour  that  brought 
him  to  his  waiting  horse.  Thoroughly  testing  his  girth,  and  feeling 
that  all  was  right,  Ducio  mounted  and  rode  away  in  the  direction 
the  rear  of  the  mission. 

About  the  time  that  Ducio  Halfen  was  taking  leave  of  Captain 
Bowie,  the  camp  fire  of  our  mess  was  blazing  brightly.  The  men 
had  eaten  supper.  Jones,  whose  turn  it  was  to  cook,  had  cleaned 
up  the  mess  things  and  the  party  were  comfortably  disposed  arou 
in  different  positions,  engaged  in  conversation. 

Mr.  Trigg  had  evidently  let  drop  a  hint  that  he  had  followed  the 
sea  in  company  with  the  noted  rover  of  the  gulf,  for  Jones  was  j 
saying  that  he  would  never  have  taken  a  man  of  his  modest  ap 
ance  to  have  been  a  pirate. 

"No  telling  what  you  did  in  Idnia,  Jones,"  said  Hamilton. 

"Mr.  Trigg  could  no  doubt  tell  some  interesting  sea  yarns,"  s 
Karnes. 

"Specially  ef  he  was  with  old  Lerfitte,"  said  Nathan. 

"Hamilton  wouldn't  believe  a  word  of  it,"  suggested  Jones. 

"But  Mr.  Trigg  would  not  soar  into  the  impossible;  for  instan 


GUY  RAYMOND.  231 

he  would  never  try  to  impose  upon  us  anything  like  your  elephant 
story/5  retorted  Hamilton. 

"I  advise  him  to  not  regale  you  with  anything  the  least  si  range. 
You.  who  have  never  been  a  hundred  miles  from  home  won't  admit  the 
truth  of  any  adventure,  above  a  'possum  hunt  or  the  pursuit  of  a 
runaway  darky." 

k*\ow,  Jones!  We  are  not  going  to  be  cheated  out  of  a  yarn 
from  Mr.  Trigg,  just  because  we  won't  let  you  impose  your  East 
Indian  stories  upon  our  credulity." 

"Or  Rimple's  rule.  We  never  knowed  what  that  was/'  put  in 
Nathan. 

"\\V11,  my  lads/'  interrupted  Mr.  Trigg.  "If  you  will  stop  your 
cross-firing,  I  will  tell  you  a  short  yarn.  I  am  not  over  strong  and 
I  won't  sit  up  late.  1  have  to  sleep  in  the  house  for  a  night  or  so, 
tin d  by  then  I  will  likely  be  myself  again.  One  morning — it  was  the 
month  of  October — I  had  been  in  the  service  at  Barrataria  about  a 
twelve-month.  The  boys  was  laying  'round  loose.,  and  we  was  all 
getting  ii  little  tired  of  about  six  weeks  idleness,  while  the  old  man 
was  in  Orleans.  We  saw  his  gig  coming  down  from  the  mainland 
where  a  bayou  emptied  ihat  connects,  through  other  bayous,  with 
thn  river.  We  saw  him  a-coraing,  and  as  the  wind  was  fresh  and 
quartering,  his,  little  boat  was  making  good  headway.  I  remember 
so  ue  of  'em  said  that  the  haste  he  was  making  might  mean  some 
business  for  the  crews.  But  it  was  the  wish  that  was  father  to  the 
th  (light;  for  they  was  it'climg-  for  some  service.  'The  most  of  us 
crowded  down  to  the  little  pier  to  see  him  land  and,  as  he  stepped 
from  the  gig,  he  <miled  in  a  good-natured  way  at  the;  welcome  we 
gave  him  and  shook  hands  with  the  last  one  of  us.  Some  dared  to 
a>k  him  if  anything  was  up.  but  he  just  smiled.  We  wasn't  long  in 
suspense,  however,  for  after  he  had  been  something  like  an  hour  shut 
up  with  the  captains  of  the  two  schooners  we  had  orders  come  to 
gel:  ready  for  Bca.  This  did  not.  take  so  long,  as  the  vessels  had 
born  provisioned  within  the  week  by  a  schooner  from  Orleans,  and 
wo  had  little  more  to  do  than  to  (ill  the  casks  with  water,  to  b" 
ready  to  weigh  anchor  and  be  oil". 

''The  men  never  worked  with  a  better  will  than  thai  afternoon 
aa  tin-  canvas  llutter  >d  to  the  broe/e  and  the  run  of  the  capstan  soon 
brought,  aboard  and  made  snug  the  anchors.  Besides  the  two  schoon- 
ers that  I  mentioned,  Lafifto  himself  had  his  own  vessel,  a  hand- 
some brig-rigged  ship  of  narrow  build,  that  carried  a.  cloud  of  canvas 
when  he  wanted  to  put,  her  to  her  best.  The  smaller  ships  carried 
two  light  guns  apiece  and  were  pretty  fast  themselves,  but  the  brig 


233  GUY  RAYMOND. 

could  soon  make  them  hull  down,  if  she  felt  like  it,  without  spread- 
ing a  topsail  or  letting  fly  a  spanker.  She  had  a  broadside  of  two 
thirty-two  pounders,  but  her  best  arm  was  a  pivot  gun  amidships, 
that  Lafitte  captured  from  the  Spaniards.  Well,  we  stood  out  in 
fine  style,  the  brig  a-leadmg,  and  when  we  got  into  blue  water  orders 
were  given  to  the  man  at  the  wheel  to  head  for  the  mouth  of  the 
river.  The  sun  went  down  red  that  evening  and  the  wind  fresh- 
ened so  that  it  looked  like  a  gale  would  be  upon  us  before  midnight. 
I  was  in  the  second  watch  and  when  we  turned  in  it  was  little  sleep 
we  had  for  thinking  what  we-  would  be  after  doing  in  the  morning." 

"You  were  aboard  the  brig?"  asked  Jones. 

"I  was.  I  never  left  Lafitte's  own  ship  as  long  as  I  was  with  him. 
Myself  and  Antone,  the  gunner  I  was  telling  ye  about,  who  died  in 
Orleans,  was  never  separated  from  the  old  man  until  we  quit  for 
good.  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  we  couldn't  sleep  much  that  night, 
and  the  next  day  we  laid  off  and  on,  in  sight  of  the  shipping  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi,  until  night,  when  the  captain  signalled 
the  schooners  and  brought  aboard  their  commanders.  After  some 
understanding  the  vessels  all  stood  to  the  eastward  and  sailing 
abreast,  with  orders  to  increase  the  intervals  until  about  three  miles 
apart.  We  continued  this  course  for  two  days  and  nights  without 
sighting  a  sail.  The  wind  had  lightened  so  that  we  made  hardly 
three  knots  an  hour  the  last  twenty-four  hours.  About  three  o'clock 
the  lookout  called :  'Sail,  Ho !'  It  proved  to  be  a  sail  on  our  star- 
board bow.  The  old  man  went  aloft  with  his  glass,  and  after  a 
while  he  signalled  the  schooners  to  stand  well  to  the  southeast,  while 
our  ship  was  brought  a  point  or  two  closer  to  the  direction  of  the 
stranger.  We  could  see  Lafitte's  idea  at  once.  He  wanted  the  other 
two  to  keep  away  out  of  danger,  while  we  would  speak,  or  look  afl 
the  new  sail,  and  if  we  must  run  we  had  the  heels  to  do  it. 
wind  stiffened  and  made  the  brig  fairly  split  the  water;  but  Lafitt 
wanted  to  reach  the  stranger  in  good  light,  and  he  sent  hands  aloft 
to  spread  the  topgallant  sails,  while  Antone  and  myself  rigged  the 
spanker.  The  cloud  of  canvas  kept  her  steady  as  if  she  was  in 
groove,  and  it  wasn't  long  before  the  ship  was  hull-up.  She  turn 
out  to  be  a  three-master  under  easy  sail.  Lafitte  kept  his  eye  on  h 
until  she  couldn't  be  more  than  a  couple  o'  miles  away,  when  we 
put  about  and  ran  at  right  angles  across  her  bows.  His  idea  was 
to  circle  her  and  find  the  kind  of  a  vessel  she  was.  We  sailed  in 
the  new  direction,  making  two  or  three  points  on  her  larboard  bow, 
when  we  changed  to  about  south-southeast;  then  after  a  bit  to  sout 
east,  until  we  had  a  good  view  of  her  broadside. 


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GUY  RAYMOND.  233 

"Lafitte  ordered  the  English  colors  to  be  shown. 

"After  the  flag  was  up  a  few  minutes,  the  stranger  showed  the 
Stars  and  Stripes.  The  old  man  called  Antone  and  handed  him  the 
glass.  Antone  took  it,  and  in  a  breath,  declared  it  to  be  a  vessel  of 
war.  The  schooners  were  hull-down  in  the  southwest,  and  Lafitte 
determined  to  find  out  what  man  o'  war  it  was.  The  brig  was  now 
about  abreast  with  her,  when  up  went  our  helm  and  we  came  about 
in  pretty  style.  It  was  as  fine  a  movement  as  was  ever  made  on 
salt  water.  Wh6n  our  sails  filled  again,  orders  came  fast;  away 
sprang  our  boys  and  in  the  time  I'm  a-telling  it  we  were  under  half 
canvas  and  making  equal  speed  with  the  other  ship.  The  vessels 
n eared  each  other  as  they  went,  and  by  the  time  the  sun  was  near 
touching  the  water,  they  were  not  half  a  mile  apart.  The  men 
were  growling  about  fooling"  around  a  man  o'  war,  and  wanted  to 
be  off;  but  Lafitte  had  a  good  deal  of  the  daredevil  in  him  and 
loved  a  little  danger  often  when  there  wasn't  a  cent  in  it.  There 
wasn't  a  sound  on  the  brig,  when  finally  a  hail  came  over  the  water: 

"'What,  ship  is  that?' 

"The   answer  went  back: 

"  'His  Brittanic  Majesty's  ship,  Dauntless.' 
\>  this  was  responded: 

don't  believe  it.     Send  an  officer  aboard  with  proof.' 
'Aye,  aye,  sir/  replied  Lafitte,  and  asked: 
'What  ship  is  that?' 

'The  United  States  ship,  "President."     Hurry  up  your  boat.' 
'Aye,  aye,  sir,'  we  responded. 

this  time  the  twilight  had  faded,  and  now  the  only  light 
left  was  from  the  stars,  that  was  out  thick  enough.  The  President 
showed  all  her  lights  while  the  hailing  was  passing;  but  aboard  us 
all  was  dark,  saving  a  light  in  the  binnacle.  Both  ships  had  luffed, 
the  President  having  shortened  sail,  and  soon  after  the  last  words 
was  spoke,  the  brig  had  nearly  crossed  the  other's  bows.  Lafitte 
waited  for  this,  and  when  the  time  came,  one  order  of  his  made 
every  rag  of  sail  fly  to  its  place.  Our  brig  yielded  to  the  helm,  and 
before  the  man  o'  war  knew  what  was  up  we  were  showing  him  our 
heels  at  the  rate  of  fifteen  knots.  A  broadside  would  have  ruined 
us  at  that  close  quarters,  but  before  they  could  ware  ship  with  their 
clumsy  hulk,  it  would  have  been  accident  to  hit  us  with  iron.  The 
balls  came,  however  ,just  as  quick  as  they  could  get  'round,  and 
twenty  guns  thundered  at  us  until  we  got  out  of  reach.  Several 
shots  passed  over  us,  one  carrying  away  the  gaff  of  the  spanker. 
They  sent  up  at  least  twenty  rockets  that  showed  us  to  them,  very 


234  GUY  RAYMOND. 

likely,  but  not  long  enough  to  make  sure  work.  It  was  exciting  whilst 
the  thing  lasted,  and  Antone  was  itching  to  bring  his  long  pivot 
gun  to  bear,  but  Lafitte  wouldn't  hear  of  it.  When  the  morning 
came  there  wasn't  a  sign  of  a — 

The  narrative;  was  here  interrupted  by  the  screams  of  a  woman, 
coming  from  the  direction  of  the  mission.  Their  repetition  aroused 
the  whole  party,  who  were  at  once  on  their  feet. 

"That's  from  Locaria's,"  said  Hamilton,  reaching  for  his  rifle 
and  bounding  off  at  full  speed. 

"Let  us  all  go,"  said  Perry,  following  Hamilton. 

The  entire  mess  was  soon  making  haste  in  the  direction  of  the 
mission,  although  the  screams  had  ceased. 

Hamilton,  the  swiftest,  arrived  at  the  jacal  only  a  little  before 
Nathan  Eoach,  whose  far-reaching  stride  kept  him  close  behind. 
The  scene  in  Locaria's  abode  indicated  the  source  of  the  screams 
whose  utterance  had  put  a  termination  to  Mr.  Trigg's  yarn.  A  fire- 
light was  blazing  on  the  hearth ;  a  chair  overturned  near  the  door, 
while  across  the  threshold  lay  the  form  of  the  Mexican  girl.  Hamilton 
raised  her  and  deposited  her  limp  form  on  a  lounge. 

"Perry,  stir  up  the  fire  and  let  us  see  what  is  the  matter  with 
her." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Hamilton.  Ain't  that  blood  on  her  cheek?" 

"Your  are  right,  boy." 

"Who  in  thunder  could  a-done  it?"  asked  Nathan. 

"Here,  Perry,  is  some  dry  stuff,  but  thar's  a  taller  dip.     Lig 
that." 

The  candle  was  lighted.     An  inspection  disclosed  a  cut  on  t 
side  of  the  head,  from  which  a  little  blood  had  trickled  down  th 
girl's  cheek.     Mr.  Trigg  was  the  last  one  to  arrive.     He  bent  ov 
his  wounded  friend,  who  was  breathing  heavily,  and  at  once  called 
for  water  to  throw  in  her  face.     The  water  had  the  desired  effect, 
causing  the  unfortunate  to  open  her  eyes  and  look  wildly  around  at 
the  faces  bending  over  her.     In  reply  to  a  shower  of  questions,  she 
merely  replied  in  Spanish : 

"He  hit  me  with  the  chair.     Oh !     My  head !     My  head !" 

When  she  finally  collected  herself  she  made  known  to  the  pa 
the  cause  of  the  trouble. 

A  little  after  dark  she  suddenly  beheld  a  man  standing  just  inside 
her  door.     She  felt  no  fear,  bade  him  good  evening  and  asked  hi 
to  be  seated.     The  intruder  said  he  had  a  paper  for  Mr.  Trigg,  an 
had  not  come  to  be  seated.     She  told  him  Mr.  Trigg  was  in  cam 
To  this  he  replied  that  Mr.  Trigg  had  sent  him  to  put  the  paper  i 


, 


GUY  RAYMOND.  235 

a  leather  pouch,  along  with  sonic  others  kept  there,  and  asked  her  to 
get  the  pouch,  so  that  he  could  do  as  directed.  Having  no  suspicion 
that  the  man  was  an  imposter,  she  went  to  the  wallet,  drew  out  the 
desired  article  and  handed  it  to  him.  He  look  it  deliberately  to 
the  fire  and  stooping  down,  examined  several  papers,  one  of  which 
he  selected  and  slipped  into  his  pocket.  LocariaV  sharp  eye^  delected 
the  act.  She  saw  no  paper  deposited,  while  she  knew  one  h;id  !>ecn 
abstracted.  By  a  little  inductive  reasoning  of  her  own,  she  con- 
cluded the  man  was  an  impostor  and  that  she  had  doubtless  proven 
a  very  careless  custodian  of  Mr.  Trigg  V  papers.  She  hravely  charged 
him  with  having  taken  out  a  paper,  while  he  had  put  none  in  the 
pouch.  To  this  the  intruder  smiled,  saying  she  had  misunderstood 
his  words.  Mr.  Trigg  had  sent  him  for  a  paper.  Bui  Locaria  WMS 
not  to  be  so  easily  imposed  upon  a  second  time.  She  demanded  the 
return  of  the  paper.  He  made  no  reply,  but  pitched  the  pouch  on 
the  bed.  She  caught  hold  of  his  coat  and  told  him  I  hat  he  could 
not  leave  with  the  paper.  This  seemed  only  to  amuse  (he  man,  for 
he  caught  her  around  the  waist,  and  chucked  her  under  the  chin.  He 
finally  attempted  to  leave,  but  she  clung-  to  him  and  commenced  to 
scream.  He  ordered  her  to  hush,  hut  she  screamed  the  louder.  She 
remembered  that  he  seized  the  chair  and  struck  her  on  the  head, 
knocking  her  senseless  to  the  floor. 

Mr.  Trigg  had  proceeded  to  examine  the  pouch  at  the  first  mention 
of  the  man's  confessed  object  in  visiting  the  jacal,  and  made  the 
unpleasant  discovery  that  he  had  lost  valuable  papers. 

After  all  had  left  the  jacal  except  Hamilton,  Perry  and  Mr. 
Trigg,  the  latter  said : 

"Do  you  guess  what  papers  the  fellow  took?" 

cannot  imagine,  unless — 

:t's  the  will  he  took,  and  the  other  papers  I  was  showing  ye." 
rith  the  name  and " 


res,  the  Portugese  and  the  drawing." 
rho  could  have  known?" 
Tone  but  ye  both." 
"What  service  could  they  be  to  a  stranger?" 
"I  can't  say,  Mr.  Hamilton,  unless  we  had  an  eavesdropper  that 
night." 

"Can  you  suspect  anyone?" 
can't,  sir." 
id  you,  Perry?" 
To  one,  unless  it  was  Ducio." 
'rejudice,  Perry." 
To,  sir.     Locaria  described  him  pretty  well." 


236  GUY  EAYMOND. 


CHAPTEK  XXXIII. 

When  Ducio  left  Locaria  lying  insensible  from  his  cruel  blow, 
he  hastened  to  where  his  horse  was  secured,  a  hundred  yards  away. 
Mounting  at  once,  he  rode  leisurely  down  to  where  the  glade,  in 
which  his  horse  had  been  lately  staked,  touched  the  embankment,  and 
pTOceeded  up  its  grassy  level  until  he  cleared  the  precincts  of  the 
camp.  Putting  spurs  to  his  horse  he  soon  reached  the  ford  and 
crossed  to  the  right  bank.  Here  he  entered  the  plain  road  that  led 
from  San  Jose  to  the  town,  and  turned  his  face  toward  the  latter. 
Not  many  minutes'  ride  brought  him  to  the  Mexican  pickets,  who 
challenged  him. 

"Qiiien  vive?" 

He  replied  in  the  same  language,  which  he  spoke  after  the  dialect 
of  the  Spanish  Creoles  of  Louisiana.  He  stated  that  he  was  a  French- 
man en  route  to  Bexar,  that  he  was  belated  and  had  a  certificate 
from  the  French  consul. 

The  sentinel  on  duty  took  him  in  charge  and  gave  him  the  com- 
forting information  that  he  must  await  the  coming  of  the  corporal 
of  the  guard.  When  at  last  that  worthy  arrived,  he  doubted  every 
word  that  Halfen  said  as  to  his  nationality  and  purpose  in  entering 
town.  Besides,  he  searched  his  person  and  saddlebags  and  confiscated 
what  money  he  could  find  and  took  his  watch  and  pistol  and  among 
other  things,  the  papers  which  had  been  so  recently  stolen  from  Mr. 
Trigg.  Ducio  used  every  argument  and  artifice  to  make  him  return 
the  latter  and  was  so  very  anxious  in  regard  to  them  that  the  corporal 
felt  sure  he  had  captured  the  evidences  of  some  infernal  plot  against 
the  national  government  or  of  some  deep-laid  conspiracy.  Ducio 
was  conducted  to  town,  where  he  was  placed  in  the  carcel,  to  remain 
until  the  commandante  should  decide  if  he  were  French  and  innocent, 
or  a  Texan  spy,  seeking  martyrdom. 

*  *  *  * 

Next  to  the  padre  and  the  monte  pio,  the  piccadore  or  bull-fighter 
takes  rank  as  one  of  the  necessities  of  Mexican  civilization.  His  com- 
ing is  heralded  with  demonstrations  of  delight  and  is  usually  at- 
tended by  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  a  parade  with  music,  fancy 
regalia  and  such  exhibitions  of  horsemanship  and  peculiar  dexterity 
calculated  to  elicit  manifestations  of  popular  satisfaction.  He  is  oft( 
admitted  to  the  very  best  society,  where  his  claim  to  the  distincti< 
of  prominence  in  the  category  of  national  benefactors  is  freely 


GUY  KAYMOND.  237 

corded.  To  the  rabble  he  is  elevated  beyond  the  ordinary  plane  of 
humanity,  partaking  largely  of  the  supernatural,  whence  come  the 
extraordinary  powers  exerted  in  the  bull  pen.  The  reader  had  di- 
vined that  the  party  which  Beatrice  saw  passing  her  father's  house, 
with  music  playing  and  clad  in  fancy  costumes,  was  that  of  the 
toreador  with  whom  Ruiz  had  left  the  Texan  camp,  disguised  in 
their  dress  and  so  transformed  in  appearance  that  he  had  not  been 
recognized  until  he  had  resumed  his  natural  voice.  When  the  torea- 
dor's party  reached  the  Mexican  lines,  they  did  not  suffer  the  deten- 
tion which  was  in  waiting  for  Ducio,  for  their  avocation  constituted 
a  passport  not  to  be  questioned  even  under  the  harsh  rules  and  sum- 
mary methods  of  Mexican  military  law.  When  the  gay  party  entered 
the  main  plaza,  a  large  per  centage  of  the  admiring  population  were 
on  hand  to  greet  the  welcome  arrival.  The  music  was  started  afresh, 
the  ponies  of  the  lancers  plunged  and.  pranced,  while  the  riders  dis- 
played much  admirable  horsemanship. 

Ruiz  was  a  splendid  horseman  and  was  equal  to  the  emergency. 
He  cast  a  curious  look  towards  the  priest's  house,  as  he  passed,  and 
saw  Guy  standing  in  the  door,  taking  in  the  scene  in  which  his 
quondam  friend  was  little  suspected  of  being  an  actor.  He  ventured 
to  throw  a  salute  to  the  young  American,  but  Guy  gave  no  sign  that 
he  considered  himself  recognized  by  a  toreador,  supposed  to  be  fresh 
from  Monterey.  Senor  Trevino  amused  the  populace  by  making  a 
circuit  of  the  square  and  announcing  in  loud  tones  his  purpose  to 
fight  the  fiercest  bull  that  could  be  obtained  on  the  range  of  Bexar. 

"That's  a  splendid  fellow,  and  rides  well.  He  would  make  a  fine 
looking  officer.  Don't  you  think  so,  Sancho?" 

"Your  brain  is  always  full  of  fine  looks  and  brass  buttons."  replied 
Sancho.  "Perhaps  a  lively  sense  of  your  own  failing  has  created  a 
morbid  longing  for  what  nature  denied  you." 

"Sancho's  companion  was  a  sallow,  thin-visaged  little  man  with 
very  prominent  features,  and  was  apparaled  in  the  uniform  of  a 
lieutenant  of  the  staff. 

"I  am  not  envious,  at  all  events.     There  is  no  harm  in  admiring 

others,  what  we  cannot  ourselves  possess/'  replied  the  lieutenant. 

"Forgive  me,  Pedro.  Your  reply  deserves  an  apology.  There 
goes  your  handsome  toreador  down  Main  Street.  Shall  we  follow 
with  the  other  pelados?" 

"No.  For  a  wonder  I  have  something  to  do.  The  general  is 
thinking  of  sending  Colonel  Ugartachea  to  the  Rio  Grande  for  the 
expected  reinforcements,  and  1  have  a  quantity  of  writing  to  do. 

16-r 


238  GUY  RAYMOND. 

Letters,  you  know,  to  the  president  and  other  matters  such  as  reports 
and  requisitions." 

"I  see;  I  see.  Well,  I  give  you  credit  for  denying  yourself  a  run 
after  the  toreador,  to  attend  to  business." 

"I  am  an  officer,  Sancho;  an  officer  all  over,"  replied  the  lieu- 
tenant, stiffening  himself  to  as  full  a  height  as  five  feet  four  would 
allow  him. 

"Yes,"  said  Sancho,  surveying  him  deliberately,  "an  officer  all 
over.  Buttons  and  lace  from  head  to  foot.  It  is  a  pity  Mexico  did 
not  have  more  soldiers  and  fewer  officers." 

"Come  to  headquarters  tomorrow  morning,  say  at  ten.  I  may  be 
able  to  let  you  know  all  about  the  matter  we  were  speaking  of." 

"It  is  well.     You  may  look  for  me,  Pedro." 

The  little  officer  moved  away  with  an  air  that  aimed  to  be  mili- 
tary and  suggest  importance.  Sancho  followed  him  with  his  eyes 
for  a  moment. 

"The  little  ass,"  he  muttered,  and  moved  away  in  the  wake  of  the 
shouting  populace. 

The  toreadors  had  made  the  length  of  the  street,  and  were  now 
returning  to  the  plaza.  Sancho  leaned  lazily  against  the  corner, 
commanding  a  view  of  their  approach.  He  carelessly  scanned  their 
faces  until  the  last  one  was  about  to  pass,  when  the  pony  the  fellow 
was  riding  became  frightened,  plunged,  reared  and  fell  back.  The 
rider  escaped  injury  by  a  wonderful  agility,  and  when  the  animal 
recovered  his  feet,  he  regained  the  saddle  by  a  bound.  A  shout  went 
up  as  he  surveyed  the  crowd  and  waved  his  hand. 

"Por  via  de  mi  madre!"  exclaimed  Sancho.  "I  know  that  eye. 
Where  have  I  seen  that  eye  before?" 

He  gazed  after  the  active  toreador,  musing  on  the  expression  of 
his  eyes  as  they  had  mutely  boasted  of  his  feat. 

Sancho  turned  up  Solidad  street,  muttering  to  himself: 

"The  man  who  owns  that  pair  of  eyes  has  been  intimate  with 
me  some  time.  But  he!  He  is  a  toreador.  Of  course,  I  am 
mistaken." 

The  next  morning  Sancho  kept  his  appointment  with  the  little 
lieutenant  of  the  staff.  Headquarters  presented  a  lively  appearance 
at  the  hour  of  his  visit,  the  front  grounds  being  filled  with  knots 
of  officers  and  soldiers  and  crossed  by  arriving  and  departing  orderlies. 
Sancho  found  his  friend  in  the  hallway,  dismissing  a  soldier  with 
instructions,  that  were  imparted  with  all  the  importance  of  manner 
that  so  slight  a  stature  could  assume.  At  the  conclusion  of  this  duty 


GUY  RAYMOND.  239 

the  lieutenant  led  the  way  to  the  rear  office,  looking  out  upon  the 
river. 

"This  is  a  quiet  retreat/'  observed  Sancho. 

"It's  the  general's  sanctum/'  replied  Pedro.  "Himself  and  staff 
are  the  only  privileged  ones  here." 

"Then  I  had  better  retire." 

"By  no  means.     You  are  my  guest." 

The  two  men  seated  themselves  at  a  low,  green-covered  table  occu- 
pying the  center  of  the  apartment,  and  on  which  evidences  of  the 
character  of  the  office  were  placed,  in  the  shape  of  military  orders, 
reports  and  letters,  while  a  handsome  sword  with  ornamented  belt 
lay  across  one  end. 

"By  the  way,  Sancho,  I  want  to  show  you  a  paper  taken  from  a 
fellow  last  night,  who  claims  to  be  a  Frenchman  and  who  entered 
our  lines  on  the  Matamoras  road.  The  general  thinks  it  may  have 
some  meaning  important  to  us,  and  the  fellow  is  from  the  rebel  camp. 
What  do  you  think  about  it?" 

Pedro  handed  his  friend  the  paper  taken  from  Mr.  Trigg's  pouch 
the  evening  before  and  which,  among  other  things,  the  guard  had 
confiscated  when  Ducio  was  made  a  prisoner.  Sancho  smoothed  the 
paper  out  upon  the  table  and  commenced  to  examine  it. 

"This  is  a  plan  of  something,"  said  Sancho.  "The  ship  would 
make  it  appear  that  this  is  the  outline  of  a  sea  coast.  The  letters 
and  characters  on  it  appear  to  be  references  to  an  explanation  of 
the  plan." 

"What  can  be  that  double  row  of  circles?"  asked  the  lieutenant. 
"And  that  mark  like  an  S,  that  runs  nearly  through  the  figure.  And 
thai  straight  mark  across?  It  looks  like  a  road.  See!  Here  it 
crosses  the  stream  and  these  are  two  bridges." 

"I  believe  you  are  right,  amigo,"  said  Sancho.  "If  so,  then  there 
is  no  meaning  in  this  paper  that  portends  evil  to  us/' 

The  friends  scrutinized  the  documents  under  examination  for 
some  minutes  longer  and  discussed  the  probable  mission  of  the  alleged 
Krone]  mi  an,  from  whom  it  had  been  taken. 

The  paper  itself,  as  had  been  stated  by  Sancho,  had  the  appear- 
ance of  containing  the  outlines  of  a  coast  on  two  sides.  The  upper 
r-o{).«--t  was  bordered  by  two  rows  of  circular  marks  running  parallel, 
nHiunencing  on  the  right,  from  where  an  "S"  like  tracing,  that 
iniirht  have  been  intended  for  a  bayou,  made  its  exit  into  a  body  of 

•T.  The  firsi  Uiree  of  the  outer  row  of  circles*  were  marked  one, 
two  and  three,  in  figures.  The  first  two  of  the  inner  row  were 
marked  one  and  two.  Across  the  figures,  from  coast  to  coast,  ran  two 


240  GUY  RAYMOND. 

parallel  lines,  as  of  a  road,  which  intersected  the  S  at  two  points.  On 
the  lower  side  and  below  the  figures  was  the  rude  tracing  of  a  ship 
under  bare  poles.  Opposite  the  ship,  and  through  which  ran  the 
road,  were  several  rectangular  figures  that  might  have  indicated 
houses.  Such  was  about  the  divination  of  the  problem  by  the  little 
lieutenant  and  his  friend,  Sancho. 

*  *  *  * 

"Father,  what  sort  of  a  prisoner  was  it,  who  was  brought  last 
night?" 

"Well,  if  I  tell  you?  You  women  are  over-curious.  It  was  late 
enough  for  you  to  be  asleep;  but  no,  you  are  awake  listening  for 
prisoners  to  come,  so  you  can  be  getting  soft-hearted  about  their  not 
having  beds  and  so  on.  Fll  tell  you  nothing." 

"You  are  in  a  bad  humor,  father.  It  was  the  noise  you  made 
that  awoke  me.  You  were  very  angry  and  talked  loud  enough  to 
awake  the  soundest  sleeper." 

"And  haven't  I  enough  to  make  all  the  saints  mad,  from'  St. 
Stephen  down?     When  I  peddled  oranges  in  Lisbon  I  could  save 
more  money  in  one  month  than  I  can  now  in  twelve;  and  no  bother. 
A  man  can  run  his  legs  off  now  and  no  thanks  for  it;  only  blame/' 
"You  spoke  of  giving  this  up." 
"Give  it  up  !    Give  it  up !    Yes,  and  starve." 
"Then  there  is  no  danger  of  starving  here?     Then  let  us  be 
contented  until  times  are  better." 

"Better!  Better!  Great  chance  of  getting  better.  El  pajarro 
had  money,  but  it  was  precious  little  I  got.  And  now  this  French- 
man has  been 

"A  Frenchman?" 

"There!  I've  gone  and  told  you  that  much.  A  Frenchman  he 
is.  He  tried  to  get  through  the  lines  and  of  course  the  soldiers 
stripped  him  of  the  last  cent  and  I  got  the  leavings." 

"Poor  fellow!  If  he  has  been  robbed,  he  better  deserves  our 
attention." 

"Well,  instead  of  prating  so  much  about  him,  get  him  a  tortilla 
and  a  cup  of  coffee.  That's  more  than  he  is  able  to  pay  for." 

In  a  few,  minutes  Linda  had  prepared  food  for  the  prisoners  and 
her  father  was  shuffling  across  the  court  with  it,  covered  by  a 
napkin.  He  entered  the  passage  and  stopped  before  the  same  cell 
where  Guy  Raymond  had  been  confined.  He  drew  forth  the  pon- 
derous key,  deliberately  placed  it  in  the  lock,  and  shot  back  the  bolts. 
As  the  door  swung  open,  Bonito  was  greeted  by  a  voice  not  at 


GUY  RAYMOND.  241 

all  indicative  o'f  that*  equanimity  that  results  from  contentment  with 
surroundings. 

"You  dog  of  a  jailer !  You  said  you  would  return  last  night  and 
furnish  me  with  something  to  rest  upon,  even  if  it  were  a  little 
straw." 

"Straw,  indeed !     Am  I  made  of  straw  ?" 

"You'd  not  ask  if  I  had  something  to  tip  you  with,  you  old 
tub  of  fat.  You  cowardly  devils  will  pay  for  ill  treating  a  subject 
of  France." 

"Ill  treating?  And  here  I  am  with  a  tortilla  and  a  cup  of 
steaming  coffee  for  your  breakfast." 

As  Bonito  said  this,,  he  pulled  aside  the  napkin,  and  was  surprised 
to  find  that  the  menu  exceeded  the  bill  of  fare  just  announced. 

"Por  via»  de  mi  madre !"  he  exclaimed.  "Ill  treatment,  indeed ! 
Here  that  foolish  child  of  mine  has  sent  you  what  is  doubtless  a  part 
of  her  own  rations.  Ill  treatment!  With  this  pile  of  tortillas,  two 
eggs  and  a  chop,  and  not  a  centado  do  I  get  for  it." 

"I'll  not  complain  of  my  breakfast,  Mr.  Jailer,  but  your  lodging 
is  contemptible.  A  civilized  people  would  not  put  a  dog  in  such  a 
hole,  without  something  to  lie  on." 

"    "It  will  be  your  fault,  Mr.  Frenchy,  if  you  are  without  a  bed." 
"How  so,  Fatty?"  asked  Ducio,  taking  the  coffee  and  tasting  it. 
"A  real  or  two  will  find  you  one." 
"Must  I  buy  a  bed,  you  old  heathen?" 
"No,  no.     Only  pay  two  reals  a  week." 
"Week?" 

"Seven  days.  Payment  in  advance,  and  on  the  afternoon  of  the 
seventh,  the  fourteenth,  the  twenty-first,  the  - 

"That's  enough,  you  old  thief.    I'll  not  be  here  the  seventh  day." 

"No   telling,   senor.     But  three   reals   for   one   week   is   not  too 

much,  for  a  good,  clean  shuck  bed,  with  a  blanket.     But  no  pillow 

at  that  price — pillows  are  scarce,  senor.     The  tame  geese  died  off, 

from  a  goose  epidemic,  and  the  wild  ones — the  wild  ones,  senor — 

"Now  you  are  hatching  up  a  lie,"  said  Ducio,  eating  his  chop. 
"You  are  not  even  a  skilled  liar,  Mr.  Jailer.  These  miserable  tor- 
tillas are  not  fit  for  a  dog  to  eat.  Why  can't  you  Mexicans  make 
broad  like  civilized  people?" 

"That's  an  insult  to  Linda!  She  made  those  tortillas,  and  a 
hotter  cook  is  not  in  Bexar.  I  am  not  a  Mexican,  Senor  Frenchy, 
any  mom  than  yourself." 

"What,  country  then,  brought  forth  such  a  caricature  on  human 
shap<  ?- 


242  GUY  EAYMOND. 

"I  am  a  Portugese." 

"A  Portugese?" 

"Ducio  started,  as  a  thought  struck  him.  He  repeated  the  words 
after  the  jailer  deliberately,  and  remembered  that  the  fellow  with 
the  long  name,  mentioned  by  Mr.  Trigg  as  the  depositary  of  the 
paper  that  Hamilton  and  Perry  were  to  secure  in  case  of  his  death, 
was  a  Portugese.  The  papers  taken  by  the  sergeant  of  the  guard 
had  been  depended  on  by  him,  and  the  name  had  slipped  his  memory. 
He  would  know  it  if  repeated.  He  at  once  determined  to  sound 
the  jailer. 

"Two  reals  for  a  bed !"  he  said,  as  if  turning  the  price  over  in 
his  own  mind. 

"Was  it  not  three,  senor?     Three,  I  said." 

"Well  three,  if  you  insist." 

"I  don't  think  it  was  four,  but — 

"Say,  Mr.  Jailer.     I  don't  know  your  name,  but  how  many — 

"Bonito,  senor,  Bonito.  A  few  have  the  impudence  to  call  me 
'old  Bonito/". 

"Well,  Bonito,  are  there  many  of  your  countrymen  in  Bexar?" 

"Not  one,  senor.  I  am  the  only  one  who  had  so  little  brains  as 
to  come  here.  A  man  would  starve  if  he  was  not  careful.  Not  a 
real,  except  the  miserable  pay  of  jailer,  has  Bonito  had  since  el 
pajarro  left  this  cell.  What  is  four  reals  for  a  bed  for  seven — 

"Four?  Make  it  ten  or  twenty,  or  more,  for  all  the  good  it  will 
do  you;  but  look,  you,  Senor  Bonito,  there  must  be  another  Portugese 
here  besides  yourself,  for  I  have  his  name  in  my  papers  and  would 
like  much  to  find  him  out." 

"And  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Frenchy,  that  Bonito  knows  to  a  certainty. 
He  has  not  been  in  Bexar  for  more  than  a  dozen  years,  with  his  eyes 
shut  and  his  ears  stopped." 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  appearance  of  a  corporal 
and  two  soldiers,  who  halted  in  the  court,  while  the  non-commissioned 
officer  called  to  Bonito.  The  latter  gathered  up  the  remnants  of 
Ducio's  breakfast  and,  waiter  in  hand,  shuffled  to  the  doorway  going 
into  the  yard.  The  corporal  had  come  for  the  French  prisoner,  who 
was  wanted  at  the  headquarters  of  the  commanding  general. 

Ducio  was  not  loth  to  quit  his  cell,  and  high  hopes  filled  his 
breast  to  be  able  to  convince  the  authorities  of  his  assumed  nation- 
ality and  pacific  mission  into  the  city.  The  corporal  walking  along 
by  his  side  and  the  two  soldiers  following  in  the  rear,  they  took  the 
way  to  the  plaza,  and  turned  down  towards  the  entrance  of  the  main 
street.  A  crowd  was  assembled  near  this  point  and  just  as  they 


GUY  RAYMOND.  243 

0 

reached  the  corner,  the  toreadors  rode  through  it,  from  Soledad 
street,  passing  near  the  soldiers,  who  stopped  with  their  prisoner  to 
see  the  sight.  Ducio  recognized  the  party  as  the  same  which  had 
left  the  Texan  camp,  but  was  ignorant  of  the  presence  of  Ruiz  among 
their  number.  The  latter  and  Trevino  rode  side  by  side  and  when 
within  a  step  or  two  of  where  stood  Ducio,  the  fancifully  colored 
lasso  that  Ruiz  carried  at  the  horn  of  his  saddle  became  disengaged 
and  he  dismounted  quickly  to  recover  it.  The  act  brought  him  face 
to  face  with  the  Creole,  whose  presence  so"  surprised  him,  that  he 
involuntarily  expressed  it  in  an  ejaculation  in  his  natural  tone  of 
voice.  Quickly  recovering  his  self-possession,  however,  he  mounted 
and  dashed  to  the  side  of  his  companion. 

Ducio's  keen  observation,  assisted  by  the  unguarded  utterance  of 
the  other,  caused  him  to  recognize  Ruiz. 

"What  can  he  be  doing  here?"  he  muttered.  He  was  hand  in 
glove  with  that  smart  mess  of  Hamilton,  Trigg  and  Go's.  He  is 
doubtless  here  as  a  spy.  Perhaps  my  recognition  of  him  may  help 
me  out  of  my  scrape." 

*  *  *  * 

Sancho  and  the  little  lieutenant  were  interrupted  in  their  exami- 
nation of  Ducio's  papers  by  the  entrance  of  General  Cos,  who  seated 
hirr  self  at  the  green  table  a  few  moments  before  the  alleged  French 
subject  was  ushered  into  the  apartment. 

The  General  did  not  raise  his  eyes  until  he  had  completed  the 
signatures  he  was  affixing  to  several  documents  spread  out  before  him. 

Meanwhile  Ducio  stood  biting  his  lip  in  sheer  vexation  at  the 
indifference  to  his  presence,  as  well  as  on  account  of  the  impudent 
ogling  to  which  he  was  subjected  from  Sancho  and  the  lace  covered 
lieutenant  of  the  staff. 

"Who  have  we  here?"  asked  General  Cos,  when  he  finally  looked 
up. 

"This  is  the  fellow  who  had  the  mysterious  paper,"  explained 
the  lieutenant. 

"The  Frenchman,  eh  ?"  said  Cos,  with  a  full  breath  and  an  ironical 
emphasis.  He  gave  Ducio  a  severe  look,  then  asked  him  in  French: 

"Vous  etes  Francais?" 

"Oui,  monsieur." 

"Que  faites  vous  ici?" 

"Seulement  pour  voir  le  pays." 

"He  speaks  French,  at  all  events,"  said  the  general,  turning  to 
his  companions. 


"You  speak  Spanish  also?" 

"Tolerably  well." 

"Let  me  see  his  passport,  lieutenant." 

The  man  of  gold  lace  selected  a  paper  from  a  pile  and 
to  the  general,  who  looked  it  over  carefully. 

"This  seems  to  be  an  official  document,  and  you  answer  tl 
description  perfectly.  What  other  evidence  have  you  of  your  nei 
trality  in  this  rebellion?" 

Ducio  thought  a  moment,  then  said : 

"If  I  point  you  out  a  real  spy  in  your  midst,  one  whom  you  know 
to  be  a  rebel,  and  my  indication  of  him  leads  to  his  capture,  will 
that  prove  my  innocence  sufficient  to  cause  my  release?" 

"It  will." 

"Write  it  down  that  it  will.  Sign  it  and  give  it  to  me  and  I  will 
disclose  who  is  here  as  a  spy." 

"Can  he  be  captured  today  ?" 

"In  a  few  minutes." 

The  general  took  a  pen  and  wrote  a  few  lines,  signed  his  name 
and  handed  it  to  Ducio.  The  latter  scanned  it  curiously,  then  with 
satisfaction,  folded  it  and  placed  it  in  his  pocket. 

The  lieutenant  whispered  to  the  general,  who  interrupted  Ducio 
as  he  was  about  to  speak. 

"Hold,  sir !     What  about  this  paper  ?" 

That — that — that  is  a  little  sketch  of  the  outlines  of  Galvestoi 
island,  where  the  town  stands.     I   made  those  outlines  the  day 
stayed  there." 

"But  the  letters  and  marks?" 

Ducio  answered  with  a  ready  lie : 

"They  are  references  to  an  explanation  I  sent  with  a  letter  to  nr 
sister.  I  forgot  to  put  it  in  my  letter." 

"Well!     Who  is  this  spy?" 

"Euiz." 

"Where  is  he  to  be  found?" 

"Disguised  as  a  toreador." 

"Santa  Maria !"  exclaimed  Sancho ;  "I  thought  I  knew  those  eyes/ 


GUT  RAYMOND.  245 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Ruiz  was  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the  appearance  of  Ducio  in  the 
town,  and  in  the  custody  of  the  military.  He  supposed  that  he  must 
have  been  captured  without  the  lines,  either  in  a  skirmish  or  by  having 
ventured  too  closely  to  the  Mexican  outposts.  In  the  many  surmises 
which  passed  rapidly  through  his  mind,  ho  imagined  that  trie  jmsoner 
might  have  been  commissioned  with  a  message  for  him  from  the 
camp  and  had  been  indiscreet  enough  to  brave  capture  in  the  attempt 
to  communicate  with  him.  The  thought  bothered  him  exceedingly  ; 
the  more  so  as  he  felt  confident  that  the  Creole  had  recognized  him. 
There  were  not  more  than  three  men  in  San  Antonio  in  whom  he 
would  have  been  willing  to  confide  the  secret  of  his  presence  within 
the  hostile  lines.  These  were  Father  Tgnacio,  Jose  and  Guy  Raymond. 
Troubled  with  his  thoughts,  Ruiz  found  himself  opposite  the  priest's 
house,  and  saw  the  major  domo  sin  ml  ing  in  the  front  entrance, 
looking  and  gaping  like  the  rest  of  ihe  populace,  at  the  show  of  which 
he  formed  a  part.  The  toreadors  stopped  here  and  Trevino  ordered 
the  music  to  play  in  honor  of  the  good  priest,,  before  whose  house 
they  had  halted. 

Ruiz  took  advantage  of  this  to  interview  Jose.  Under  the  pre- 
tence of  wanting  a  drink  of  water,  lie  dismounted.,  threw  his  reins 
to  a  piccador  and  approached  the  door. 

"Senor,  I  want  to  get  a  drink  of  water."  Ruiz  used  his  natural 
tone  of  voice,  which  caused  Jose  to  regard  him  closely. 

"Enter,  senor ;  I  will  bring  it." 

"Allow  me  to  go  back  with  you." 

Jose  was  puzzled  lit  the  familiar  voice,  but  invited  the  Inn-adnr 
to  follow  him.  Arrived  at  the  court,  Ruiz  caught  him  by  the  arm  and 
said : 

"Jose,  don't  you  know  me?" 

"Senor  Ruiz!     A  toreador?" 

"Yes,  Jose !  but  you  must  not  give  me  away." 

"Por  nada,  senor,"  responded  Jose  earnestly. 

Ruiz  then  hurriedly  communicated  to  his  friend  the  fact  of  the 
presence  of  a  young  man  from  the  Texas  camp  as  n  prisoner.  ITe 
wanted  Jose  to  find  out  how  he  came  in  the  town  and  to  ascertain 
anything  else  in  connection  with  his  capture  and  detention.  Jose 
promised  to  fail h fully  ondeavor  to  get  all  the  information  as  spoodily 
as  possible.  Ruix  relumed  to  his  masquerading  while  Ihe  olhor 
departed  with  alacrity  on  his  errand.  He  had  no  difficulty  in  tracing 


246  GUY  RAYMOND. 

the  prisoner  and  the  file  of  soldiers  to  headquarters.  Here  he  was 
a  little  puzzled  how  to  proceed.  He  strode  up  and  down  for  a  few 
minutes,  like  the  sentinel  who  was  walking  his  post,  trying  to  devise 
some  excuse  to  go  into  the  building,  and  into  the  office  of  the  general 
if  necessary.  Finally  a  thought  seemed  to  strike  him,  and  he  boldly 
entered  the  hall.  The  first  door  to  the  right  was  the  office  of  the 
adjutant  general.  It  was  vacant,  but  as  Jose  poked  his  head  in  he 
heard  voices  to  the  rear,  the  sounds  coming  through  a  door  com- 
municating to  the  back  veranda  overlooking  the  river.  He  quietly 
entered  the  room  and  noiselessly  approached  the  back  door  and  took 
a  seat,  ostensibly  to  await  the  coming  of  the  occupants  of  the  room. 
His  new  position  enabled  him  to  hear  distinctly  what  was  being  said 
on  the  veranda. 

There  were  two  speakers. 

"This  fellow  Ruiz  must  be  shot,"  said  one  voice. 

"He  is  a  murderer,"  said  the  other. 

"Murderer?" 

"Yes;  he  killed  a  poor  devil  named  Vasquez  and  threw  the  body 
in  the  river." 

"What  do  you  think  of  this  Frenchman,  Sancho  ?" 

"He  may  be  all  right.  He  will  deserve  his  liberty  anyway  for  let- 
ting us  know  that  the  traitor  Ruiz  is  in  our  lines  masquerading  as  a 
toreador." 

"You  said  this  American  had  something  to  do  with  the  murde 
of  Vasquez." 

"He  did.  Besides,  he  murdered  Vasquez's  brother  when  he  was 
with  the  Lipans.  The  last  crime,  doubtless,  committed  to  destroy 
all  proof  of  the  first." 

"And  Father  Ignacio  protects  such  a  serpent  ?*' 

"He  is  living  on  the  fat  of  the  land." 

"Will  the  general  order  his  arrest?" 

"If  he  don't  it  won't  be  much  trouble  to  put  him  out  of  the  way." 

As  this  was  said,  Sancho  and  the  lieutenant  walked  into  the  ad- 
jutant's office.     Jose,  to  all  appearances,  was  fast  asleep,  with  his  head 
bent  over  on  his  hand.     His  long,  heavy  respiration  indicated  ob 
livion  to  all  perceptible  things. 

"For  todos  los  Santos !"  exclaimed  the  lieutanant.     "Whom  hav 
we  here?" 

"A  borachon?"  suggested  Sancho,  giving  Jose  a  shove. 

Jose  jumped  up,  rubbing  his  eyes,  having  all  the  appearance  o 
awaking  from  a  deep  sleep. 

"The  adjutant  general  has  not  come?"  he  asked,  rubbing  his  ey 


a 

: 

5  iruy 

V." 


GUY  KAYMOND.  247 

"Why  this  is  the  major  domo." 

"Si,  senor,"  said  Jose.  "I  have  a  message  from  Father  Ignacio, 
and  while  waiting  I  fell  asleep." 

"Too  much  Cabeza  cle  Toro,  Jose,"  said  Sancho,  laughing. 
"Late  hours  and  mescal." 

"What  is  your  message  ?"  asked  the  lieutenant.     "I  will  deliver  it." 
"The  Padre  Ignacio  heard  you  had  taken  some  prisoners  and  he 
wanted  to  know  if  any  of  them  were  Catholics/ 

f$o,  no,  Jose ;  only  one  who  is  a  Frenchman ;  but  he  will  be  released 
some  time  today,"  said  Sancho. 

Jose  excused  himself  after  begging  the  officer  and  Sancho  not  to 
let  Father  Ignacio  know  that  he  had  gone  sound  asleep  at  head- 
quarters while  on  his  business. 

When  Jose  returned  to  the  plaza  the  toreadors  had  disappeared, 
but  he  followed  in  the  wake  of  the  music  and  overtook  them  as  they 
neared  the  dwelling  of  the  Senora  de  la  Torre,  on  Flores  street.  He 
attracted  th^  attention  of  Ruiz  by  shouting  above  the  vivas  of  the 
mob  so  that  the  former  could  distinguish  his  voice  and  know  that  he 
wished  to  communicate  with  him.  His  ruse  proved  successful,  for  the 
amateur  bull-fighter  dismounted,  and  leading  his  horse  to  one  side, 
loosened  the  saddle  girth)  as  if  something  had  gone  wrong  with  it. 
was  soon  at  his  side, 
ell  ?" 

ou  are  betrayed,  senor.  You  will  be  arrested.  Senor  Ray- 
mond is  in  danger  also.  You  and  he  are  charged  with  the  murder  of 
Vasquez." 

"From  what  you  heard,  think  you  they  will  act  before  night?" 
he  military  act  quickly,  senor." 

ou  are  right,  Jose.     HI  have  to  use  my  wits,  and  right  quickly." 
Come,  amigo.     I  have  it!"  said  Jose,  throwing  the  reins  of  the 
to  one  of  the  men  who  had  approached  to  know  what  was  the 
matter.     "Hold  the  senor's  horse;  we'll  be  gone  but  a  moment." 

Jose,  without  further  ceremony,  took  the  arm  of  Ruiz,  who  per- 
mitted the  major  domo  to  conduct  him  to  the  sidewalk,  where  a  nar- 
row passage  afforded  entrance  behind  a  wall  that  concealed  a  jacal,  in 
J;  of  which  sat  an  ancient  Aztec  stooping  over  some  basketwork. 
Alejo,  we  want  to  say  something  in  private,"  said  Jose.  ?iflf>r 
accosting  the  old  man  with  a  good  morning.  "Can  we  go  a  moment 
our  room?" 

Si,   si!     En  (re,   entre,"   replied   the   old   fellow    with   the   most 
1  indifference, 
hat  do  you  propose  to  do  here,  Jose  ?"  asked  Ruiz. 


juuseiie 
Jose  wi 

::?; 

rnond  i 
Vasqut 

"F 

I 


248  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"Change  clothes  with  you." 
"But  you  will  suffer  if- 


"We  haven't  a  moment  to  lose.  Off  with  that  rig,"  interrupted 
Jose,  pulling  off  his  jncl;ci  nnd  following  it  up  by  rapidly  divesting 
himself  of  his  pants.  Ruiz,  without  further  objections,  imitated  his 
friend,  and  in  an  incredibly  short  time  they  stood,  each  metamor- 
phosed in  appearance. 

"I  believe  we  are  the  same  size,  Jose." 

"No  time  for  comments,  senor;  "I  must  get  to  my  horse,  and 
you—" 

"I  will  take  care  of  myself,  amigo  mio." 

The  two  embraced  in  the  most  fraternal  manner. 

Jose  returned  to  the  street,  mounted  Ruiz's  steed,  and  rejoined 
the  toreadors. 

The  late  toreador,  habilitated  in  the  garments  of  the  late  major 
domo,  asked  a  question  or  two  of  the  venerable  basket-maker,  who 
replied  curtly,  without  raising  his  head  from  his  task. 

Ruiz  paused  a  moment,  watching  Alejo  twist  in  and  out  the  rushes 
from  which  he  was  constructing  his  baskets,  apparently  happy  and 
contented,  at  any  rate  indifferent  to  everything  else. 

"Occupation !  Occupation  !"  thought  Ruiz ;  "it  constitutes  nine- 
tenths  of  contentment." 

With  this  philosophical  thought,  he  turned  away,  and  going  to  the 
rear  of  the  shanty,  he  jumped  a  dilapidated  wall,  landing  in  a  yard 
of  spacious  dimensions,  on  one  side  of  which  ran  the  ascequia  of  gurg- 
ling water,  darkened  by  the  shadows  of  a  row  of  stately  cottonwoods. 
He  turned  quickly  to  the  right  and  followed  the  wall  over  which 
he  had  leaped  for  perhaps  fifty  steps.  This  brought  him  to  a  gate, 
which  he  opened  without  hesitation,  and  passed  through  into  a  narrow 
court  that  terminated  where  an  open  door  and  window  overlooked  its 
pavement.  At  the  window  sat  a  lady  manipulating  some  white  ma- 
terial, bending  over  her  work  as  she  deftly  passed  a  pair  of  scissors 
through  it.  The  step  upon  the  flags  attracted  her  attention. 

"What  do  you  wish  here  ?"  she  asked  quickly. 

"I  come  to  see  you." 

"To  see  me?" 

"And  the  Senorita  Josefa," 

"And  may  I  ask  who  so  honors  us  with  a  visit  through  the  back 
gate?" 

"An  unusual  way,  I  ;i«lmit,  in  gain  entrance  to  a  private  house, 
but  your  brother's  major  dnmo  need  not  be  over  ceremonious." 

k'My  brother's  major  domo?"    • 


GUY  RAYMOND.  249 

"Well,  well;  I  see  the  dress  has  net  entirely  transformed  me. 
Jose  and  I  exchanged  clothes  ;i  little  while  ago.     He  is  now  a  gallant 
toreador,  to  all  appearance,  while  I,  your  old  friend  Manuel  Rui/, 
am  masquerading  in  his  garments  for  prudential  reasons." 
•  "Senor  Ruiz  I" 
"Do  you  not  recognize  me  ?" 

'Your  voice,  but  the  loss  of  beard  takes  away  every  means  of 
identification.     How  does  it  happen  that  you  have  put  yourself  in 
anger?" 

Ruiz  thought  best  to  dissemble. 

'Anxiety  to  see  Josefa  caused  me  to  come  in  disguise  as  a  tor- 
idor.     By  accident  I  was  recognized  by  an  enemy  and  forced  to 
this  new  disguise  and  your  house  MS  an  asylum  until  the  darkness 
)f  night  can  facilitate  my  escape." 

"Josefa  is  not  at  home.     However,  come  in  the  house,  lest  some 
me  be  on  your  trail  and  catch  a  glimpse  of  you." 

Ruiz  had  stood  opposite  the  window  through  whose  grated  opening 
the  Senora  de  la  Torre  had  addressed  to  him  her  remarks.     When 
le  had  uttered  her  last  words  of  caution  she  withdrew  from  the 
dndow,   and  reappearing  the  next  moment  at  the  door,  bade  her 
visitor  to  enter.     She  cast  a  searching  glance  at  him  as  he  did  so  as 
half  in  doubt  that  it  was  really  Ruiz,  so  changed  indeed  was  his  ap- 
iarance  from  loss  of  beard  and  from  a  darker  hue  which  some  prepara- 
tion had  lent  to  his  physiognomy.     He  noticed  her  expression,  laughed 
he  explained  his  painstaking  at  disguisement,  and  reflected  how 
>mical  he  must  appear  in  the  eyes  of  the  senora,  who  had  always 
him  in  the  garb  of  a  well  dressed  caballero.     He  was  almost 
glad  that  Josefa  was  away,  yet  she  would  return  and  find  him  there. 
_t  would  perhaps  be  best  to  bring  back  some  of  the  old  look  to  his 
ice  by  removing  the  unnatural  complexion  the  artificial  appliance 
produced.     A  hint  to  this  effect  to  the  hostess  was  followed  by 
lirections  to  go  into  the  adjoining  room,  where  he  would  find  soap, 
rater  and  towels. 

'It  is  Josef a's  apartment,"  she  said.  "When  you  finish  your 
>ilet  you  can  come  into  the  sitting-room,  where  we  will  await  her 
>turn." 

Ruiz  found  himself  in  a  tidy  apartment  that  bore  evidences  of  its 
listress'  taste  and  care.  He  felt  half  tempted  to  forego  his  intention 
id  not  disturb  the  exquisite  order  of  the  room,  but  a  glance  in  the 
lirror  that  had  so  often  reflected  Josefa's  face,  caused  him  to  renew 
iis  first  determination.  When  he  finally  viewed  himself  in  the  gkss 
id  was  about  to  turn  away  satisfied  with  the  change,  he  caught  sight 


250  GUY  RAYMOND. 

of  a  crampled  paper  that  the  draught  had  carried  against  the  iron 
bars  of  the  window,  where  it  was  securely  lodged.     Impelled  by  curi- 
osity, perhaps,  or  a  nameless  impulse,  he  reached  for  it  and  foun 
on  a  hasty  inspection  that  it  was  addressed  to  Guy  Raymond,  an 
signed  by  Beatrice. 

•"How  came  this  here?"  he  asked  mentally,  at  the  same  time  plac- 
ing it  in  his  pocket.     "She  has  suspected  me  of  loving  Beatrice  and 
here  I  find  a  letter  from  Beatrice  to  the  young  American.     Can  sh 
have  intercepted  this  for  a  purpose?     Josef  a  is  a  strange  girl.     A 
girl  to  be  afraid  of  if  she  imagined  herself  wronged/' 

It  was  afternoon  before  Josef  a  returned.  Ruiz  had  passed  the 
time  rather  impatiently.  The  object  of  his  coming  within  the  hostile 
lines  seemed  about  to  be  defeated  by  the  merest  accident,  and  his  life 
was  in  great  danger,  now  that  his  presence  had  been  made  known  by 
Ducio  Halfen.  He  must  necessarily  be  a  prisoner  within  the  house 
of  the  De  la  Torre's  until  night,  when  the  darkness  would  permit  his 
exit;  but  where  to  go  unless  it  would  be  back  to  the  Texan  camp,  he 
had  not  the  remotest  idea. 

Ducio  was  promptly  released  and  was  allowed  to  repossess  his  pa- 
pers and  money,  although  the  latter  was  short  from  an  assessment 
levied  by  the  guard.  To  this  he  submitted  without  a  murmur  for  fear 
that  complaint  might  compromise  his  safety.  The  streets  were 
almost  clear  of  people  as  he  issued  from  the  grounds  of  the  head- 
quarters, but  on  reaching  the  main  plaza  he  could  hear  the  shouts  of 
the  crowd  mingled  with  the  music  of  the  toreadors  as  they  passed  up 
Flores  street.  He  thought  of  his  treachery  to  Ruiz  and  wondered  if 
the  latter  had  already  experienced  its  effects.  Danger  to  himself 
might  result  from  the  betrayal  of  the  clever  Mexican;  but  that  was 
in  the  future.  And  what  cared  Ducio  for  danger  in  no  wise  im- 
pending ? 

Selfish  natures,  planning  and  plotting  immoral  acts,  are  so  a 
sorbed  in  their  narrow  propensities  that  they  are  as  dead  to  premoni 
tions  of  disaster  as  they  are  lost  to  any  emotions  involving  conscien 
or  honor.     His  character  was  that  of  the  grasping,  greedy  and  unprin- 
cipled world  that  would  trample  upon  any  human  right  to  secure 
selfish  ends.     Pie  was  that  world  individualized.     As  Ducio  strolled 
along  the  wall  separating  Linda's  garden  from  the  plaza,  a  tall  lady, 
whose  features  were  concealed  by  her  rebosa,  swept  by  him  and  en 
tered  that  cozy  retreat  by  the  doorway  in  advance  of  him.     Just  befor 
she  disappeared  she  cast  a  hurried  glance  at  the  stranger,  when  their 
eyes  met  for  an  instant,  and  Ducio,  looking  after  her,  caught  sight  of 
the  interior  before  the  door  could  be  closed. 


n- 

t 

ce 


GUY  KAYMOND. 

"Those  were  piercing  eyes,  and  fine  ones,"  he  muttered. 

While  he  was  thus  musing  he  found  himself  in  front  of  the  monte 
pio's,  with  the  proprietor  lolling  lazily  in  Ins  door. 

"Will  you  tell  me  who  is  your  neighbor.,  with  that  door  in  the  wall 
that  opens  into  the  garden  ?"  he  asked  of  the  monte  pio. 

"That?"  asked  the  latter,  leaning  out  slightly.  "That  is  the  place 
where  Bonito,  the  jailor,  lives.  If  you  want  to  see  him,  however,  you 
must  go  to  the  next  street  and  go  through  the  jail.  That  gate  is  the 
private  entrance  for  his  daughter,  the  Senorita  Linda.  Does  the 
senor  want  me  to  show  him  the  jail?" 

"No,  thanks ;  I  can  easily  find  it.  But  you  may  tell  me  who  was 
the  lady  that  just  entered  that  gate.  Was  she  Bonito's  daughter  ?" 

"No,  senor;  it  must  have  been  the  Senorita  de  la  Torre,  who  is  a 
frequent  visitor  to  the  Senorita  Linda." 

"Do  you  know  a  Portuguese  in  Bexar,  Senor  Monte  Pio  ?" 

"No,  senor,  unless  it  be  Bonito.." 

"Has  none  other  been  here  and  afterwards  gone  away?     Think 

II.     If  you  put  me  on  the  right  track  I  will  reward  you." 
"Are  you  a  detective,  senor?" 
"Not  at  all.     I  seek  a  man  whose  interest  it  is  to  see  me." 
"You  may  see  Bonito  and  tell  him  the  gist  of  the  interest  and 
haps  the  knowledge  of  its  importance  may  assist  his  memory." 
"How  assist  it  ?»" 
"Some  little  particular  may   recall   the  presence   of   a   transient 
countryman." 

"He  so  worships  money,  perhaps  a  peso  would  be  more  effective." 
The  monte  pio  gave  a  shrug  and  Ducio  passed  on.     He  reflected 
he  walked : 

"Bonito!     Bonito!     There    was    nothing    Portuguese    in    such    a 
.e.     The  jailer  was   stupidity   personified,   but  he  loved   a  real, 
e  must  return  to  the  carcel  for  his  effects,  and  he  would  try  to  win 
the  old  fellow's  confidence  and  let  time  draw  out  what  he  wished  to 
know.     If  fortune  was  to  be  his,  it  would   come.     He  would  seize 
opportunities  as  they  would  present  themselves,  not  endeavor  to  force 
decrees  of  fate. 

The  court  of  the  carcel  was  vacant  when  the  Creole  entered.  The 
r  leading  to  the  jailor's  apartments  stood  ajar;  just  enough  open 
invite  a  push,  or  repel  intrusion  by  one  unaccustomed  to  cross  its 

t'eshold. 
Ducio  hesitated,  then  raised  his  hand,  perhaps  to  knock,  but  ar- 
ted  the  motion  as  the  sounds  of  voices  issued  from  within. 
They  were  female  voices. 


252  GUY  RAYMOND. 

To  a  moderate  knock  from  Ducio  there  was  no  answer.  A  mo- 
ment's hesitation.,  then  the  door  yielded  to  his  push,  disclosed  the 
hall-way  with  the  lounge  on  the  right  side  opposite  the  room  whence 
the  voices  still  issued.  Ducio  had  an  investigating  disposition.  He 
moved  quietly,  taking  in  the  apartment  and  noting  the  two  other 
places  of  exit,  one  at  the  end  of  the  hall,  the  other  quite  opposite  the 
room  he  knew  to  be  occupied.  Ducio  listened  as  the  voices  grew 
^distinct. 

"I  certainly  must  have  dropped  a  letter,  which  I  thought  was  se- 
cure in  my  pocket.  I  wanted  you  to  deliver  it  to  the  owner,  Linda." 

"A  letter !     For  me  to  deliver  ?" 

"Yes.  I  will  explain.  I  was  going  down  to  see  my  uncle,  I 
picked  up  a  letter  lying  in  the  street  in  front  of  San  Fernando.  To 
my  surprise  it  was  addressed  to  Guy  Eaymond,  and  signed  'Beatrice.' 
The  letter  was  in  English/' 

"And  you  have  lost  it?'7 

"Perhaps.  I  can't  find  it,  although  I  was  quite  positive  that  it 
was  in  my  pocket  when  I  left  home." 

"Why  did  you  wish  me  to  deliver  it,  Josef  a?" 

"Because,  I  like  neither  the  writer  nor  the  one  addressed." 

"Josef  a!     Jealous?" 

"Yes,  if  you  would  know  it — jealous." 

"But  you  have  seen  so  little  of  Senor  Raymond." 

"You?  American  friend  is  nothing  to  me.     The  Senorita 
has  doubtless  captured  him  also,  as  the  letter  I  found  would  disclose 
if  translated. 

"She  came  between  me  and  Manuel  Ruiz,  who  also  fell  a  victim 
to  her  American   accomplishments.     Now  I   hate  Ruiz,  but  I  wi 
never  forgive  Beatrice  Navarro." 

"How  bad  it  will  be  for  me  to  liave  two  friends  who  are  enemi< 

"If  they  were  all  guileless  like  you,  Linda — 

"But  if  Senor  Ruiz  had  fancied  me — 

"I  should  have  forgiven  him  and  held  you  guiltless." 

"I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,  amiga  mia." 

Ducio  was  listening  attentively  up  to  this  point  of  the  conversati 
and  had  moved  noiselessly  past  the  lounge  until  he  could  peep  into 
the  open  door,  which  led  into  the  opposite  room.  Half  turning  from 
a  hasty  glance  into  that  apartment,  what  was  his  surprise  to  see  the 
blanket  covered  mattress  of  the  lounge  rise  at  one  end,  without  any 
apparent  agency,  until  it  doubled  back  and  disclosed  the  head,  should- 
ers and  back  of  Bonito,  who  appeared  to  emerge  from  the  depths 
below.  The  jailer's  face  was  turned  t'nmi  the  Creole  as  his  bur 
frame  rose,  as  it  were,  by  steps  from  under  the  lounge. 


GUY  RAYMOND.  253 

Ducio,  at  a  loss  what  to  make  of  such  a  proceeding,  felt  that  he 
was  an  accidental  witness  of  something  that  might  involve  a  secret, 
and:  retired  at  once  into  the  room,  curious  to  see  what  had  placed 
him  in  his  present  position.  There  was  nothing  whatever  behind 
wrhich  he  could  conceal  himself;  no  way  of  egress  by  which  to  escape, 
except  through  the  hall,  where  Bonito  could  be  heard  a  moment  later 
shuffling  along.^  Ducio  listened,  and  the  steps  ceased  at  the  further 
end  of  the  passage ,  he  had  just  left.  Feeling  this  to  be  his  oppor- 
tunity, he  slipped  quickly  out,  passed  by  the  rearranged  lounge  and 
stood  once  more  in  the  court.  He  felt  repressed  at  what  he  had  seen ; 
his  chest  heaved  and  for  a  moment  he  felt  non-plussed.  It  was  mo- 
mentary, however,  with  Ducio.  He  reprimanded  himself  and  in- 
stantly knocked  loudly  on  the  door. 

"Diablo !  Quieres  quebrar  la  puerta  !"  came  in  response  from  the 
effeminate  voice  of  Bonito. 

"You!  And  where  is  your  guard?"  he  said  as  he  confronted 
Ducio. 

"I  have  dispensed  with  guards.,  amigo.     I  am  free." 

"And  you  want  your  things  ?" 

"Those  taken  from  my  pockets?  Yes — the  other — no  matter  at 
this  moment/' 

"Remain  here  then — no — you  must  be  a  gentleman  and  all  right 
to  get  out  of  their  clutches.  Walk  in  there  with  Linda  while  I  get 
what  you  ask  for.  She  has  company,  but  it  is  no  one  but — walk 
right  in;  but  stay,  Senor  Frenchy,  you  promised  me  four  reals,  and 


"Anything  you  say,  Bonito,"  interrupted  Ducio.     "Only  get  me 
I  want  and  you  shall  have  it  your  way." 

ive  reals,"  muttered  Bonito,  turning  away  just  as  Ducio  step- 
upon  the  threshold  to  enter  Linda's  room. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

A  taste  for  reading  and  study  was  a  fortunate  circumstance  in 
the  character  of  Guy  Raymond.  The  trait  was  commended  by  the 
good  priest  of  San  Fernando,  who  wondered  why  a  youth  of  habits 
so  sedate  and  a  mind  so  cultivated  would  not  yield  to  the  evidences 
that  so  clearly  substantiated  the  claims  of  dogmatic  religion.  Guy's 
agnosticism  called  forth  protest  after  protest  from  Father  Ignacio, 
while  Father  Nicholas  owned  to  saying  a  mass  for  the  reclamation 
of  the  young  unbeliever.  The  object  of  their  solicitude  was  somewhat 
stocial  under  these  attempts  to  convert  him  to  a  belief  in  miraculous 

17-r 


254  GUY  RAYMOND. 


bv  only 


intervention  of  a  Diety  who  had  chosen  to  assert  his  personality  only 
in  ages  when  the  human  mind  was  so  steeped  in  ignorance  that  it  was 
ready  to  accept  any  theory  of  a  cosmos  which  pandered  to  the  instinc- 
tive longings  of  the  heart.  This  sentiment  only  worried  his  pious 
friends  and  caused  them  to  plan  new  methods  by  which  to  instill 
into  the  young  American  a  religious  bent.  Even  Jose  had  related  to 
Guy  numerous  experiences,  among  which  were  repeated  interpositions 
of  St.  Anthony,  who  had  brought  him  good  luck  often  when  he  least 
deserved  it.  But  the  evidence  of  the  major  domo  failed  of  effect,  and 
Guy  still  remained  the  subject  of  well  meant  solicitude.  The  sudden 
passion  with  which  the  beautiful  Beatrice  had  inspired  him  had  caused 
a  conflict  between  literature  and  love.  He  frequently  saw  from 
behind  the  printed  lines  of  his  volume  the  mobile  features  of  the 
beauty,  or  read  between  them  the  remembered  words  which  her  soft 
tones  had  articulated.  The  severance  of  intercourse  with  the  Na- 
varre abode  influenced  him  in  remaining  within  doors  as  interest  in  ex- 
terior things  had  diminished  in  ratio  with  his  ability  to  interview  the 
girl  who  filled!  his  thoughts.  Despite  his  power  of  self  control  he 
could  not  avoid  the  inevitable  depression  that  must  follow  disappoint- 
ment in  young  love's  dream.  The  appearance  of  the  toreadors 
with  their  extravagant  costumes  and  grotesque  movements  had  elicited 
the  first  smile  that  had  broken  the  melancholy  of  his  features  since 
Navarro  pere  had  bowed  him  from  the  house.  The  bull-fighters 
formed  a  topic  for  conversation  in  the  leisure  hours  of  Father  Ignacio. 
He  explained  the  manner  of  conducting  these  exhibitions  with  all  the 
cruel  details  of  the  torture  of  the  animals,  the  risk  of  the  toreador  and 
the  final  coup  de  grace  that  ended  the  scene. 

"Do  you  not  think  such  fights  an  unwarranted  cruelty  to  the  ani- 
mals, and  unworthy  of  our  civilization  ?"  asked  Guy. 

"By  no  means/'  replied  Father  Ignacio.  "It  is  a  national  custom 
which  the  church  has  never  condemned.  Animals  were  made  for 
man's  gratification  and  it  matters  not  if  they  be  killed  to  supply 
physical  or  mental  food.  When  we  eat  them  it  nourishes  our  bodies ; 
when  we  kill  them  in  the  bull-pen  for  recreation  it  is  a  healthy 
diversion." 

"But  cruelty  even  in  necessary  destruction  of  animal  life  should  be 
abhorent  to  the  refined  mind.  It  seems  to  me  that  it  is  rather  a 
strained  position  to  assume  that  bull-killing  is  a  necessary  diversion." 

The  argument  lasted  for  a  considerable  time,  without  resulting  in 
the  conversion  of  either  to  the  other's  position.  It  was  late  in  the  after- 
noon of  the  day  when  Ruiz  and  Jose  had  exchanged  clothing  that 
this  debate  took  place.  Father  Ignacio  had  duties  at  the  church, 


GUY  RAYMOND.  25,5 

Quy  sallied  forth  for  a  ramble.  He  took  his  way  down  the  Calle  de 
la  Carcel.  Senora  Candelario  greeted  him  as  he  passed  her  shop  with 
"buenas  tardes,"  and  looked  after  him  with  ill  concealed  admiration, 
his  fair  complexion  and  handsome  appearance  being  irresistable 
charms  in  the  eyes  of  the  senoritas,  while  it  excited  the  envy  of  the 
men.  He  passed  the  carcel  and  the  Cabo/a  do  Toro  and  .continued 
lii's  walk  until  the  little  foot  bridge  above  the  ford  was  reached.  The 
old  millwheel  was  slowly  turning,  just  touched  by  the  seething  cur- 
rent, as  it  shot  foaming  and  spurting  past  the  narrow  way  into  the 
wide  and  shallow  ford  below. 

Guy  had  been  told  that  here  his  enemy,  Vasquez,  had  been  thrown 
after  having  been  murdered,  and  as  he  leaned  over  the  rail  and  gazed 
into  the  limpid  waters,  down  to  the  soft  depths,  carpeted  with  water- 
cress and  mosses,  his  thoughts  wandered  back  to  the  Indian  fight, 
where  by  his  bravery  he  had  won  the  title  of  El  Bravo,  and  where 
he  had  captured  the  saddle  that  Vasquez  had  identified  as  his  brother's 
property.  The  murder  of  his  accuser  had  probably  saved  his  life. 
He  thought  of  the  Indian  village,  and  wondered  how  fared  Lnoni, 
and  Pedro  and  Chicha.  If  Walumpta  had  blamed  Laoni  for  his 
escape.  His  reflections  continued  in  this  channel  for  some  time 
when  he  felt  suddenly  the  weight  of  two  great  paws,  and  then  beheld 
Roll  a  capering  about  him  with  a  piece  of  his  rope  still  tied  around 
his  neck. 

"How  did  you  get  loose,  old  fellow?  Gnawed  your  rope,  no 
doubt." 

"No,"  he  continued,  examining  the  rope,  "cut  by  a  sharp  knife. 
Who  could  have  done  it?" 

He  fondled  the  dog  for  awhile,  then  taking  hold  of  him,  he  threw 
him  into  the  water. 

"There,  take,  a  bath  since  you  would  come." 

Rolla  came  to  the  surface'  at  once  and,  swimming  to  the  shore, 
shook  the  water  from  his  body.  He  came  cavorting  back  to  his  mas- 
ter, but  manifested  no  disposition  to  have  the  experiment  repeated. 

Guy  was  still  laughing  at  Rolla's  ducking  when  the  tramp  of  feet 
upon  the  bridge  attracted  his  attention,  and  he  beheld  a  file  of  four 
soldiers  approaching  under  the  command  of  a  corporal.  He  stood  to 
one  side  to  make  way  for  them  on  the  narrow  bridge,  but  was  rather 
surprised  when  the  officer  laid  his  hands  upon  his  shoulder  and  stated 
he  had  orders  for  his  arrest. 

"Are  you  not  mistaken?"  he  asked. 

•w  No,  not  mistaken.     Is  that  your  dog?" 
res— but  why?" 


256  GUY  RAYMOND. 


)u  were 


"I  went  to  the  priest's  house  for  you  and  was  told  that  you 
gone.  The  mozo  said  that  this  was  your  dog,  and  I  cut  his  rope 
and  took  him  to  the  door  where  you  went  out.  He  took  your  trail 
and  we  followed  him." 

"Rolla,  poor  fellow,  you  betrayed  me." 

The  dog  looked  earnestly  at  his  master,  then  at  the  soldier,  whose 
hand  still  rested  on  his  prisoner,  and  muttered  a  low  growl.  He 
seemed  to  comprehend  that  there  was  trouble. 

Guy  tried  to  pump  his  captor,  but  he  knew  nothing,  and  there 
being  no  recourse,  he  submitted  to  be  taken  back  over  the  route  by 
which  he  had  just  reached  the  bridge.  He  walked  beside  the  cor- 
poral until  the  carcel  was  reached,  when  he  was  conducted  through 
the  old  corridor  and  into  the  court  just  as  the  night  sentinel  was 
taking  his  post. 

"El  Pajarro !" 

This  exclamation  burst  from  Bonito's  lips  as  he  issued  from  his 
door  and  saw  his  old  prisoner  again  in  the  toils.  The  uplifted  hands 
accompanying  the  exclamation  retained  their  position  for  a  moment, 
as  the  old  jailer  still  regarded  the  prisoner  with  expressions  first  of 
surprise,  followed  by  regret,  then  satisfaction,  all  struggling  for  the 
mastery. 

The  soldiers  witnessed  this  demonstration  at  rest,  while  the  sentry 
paused  in  his  walk,  and  Rolla,  upon  his  haunches  close  by  his  mas 
completed  the  momentary  tableau. 

"A  prisoner  ?" 

"Yes,  Bonito ;  but  for  what  I  know  not." 

"The  orders  are  to  keep  this  man  closely  confined,"  said  the  cor- 
poral. 

"Whose  orders?" 

"The  adjutant  general's." 

"Very  well,  senor  corporal.     I  know  my  duty." 

Guy  sat  down  upon  the  bench  wondering  what  could  be  the  charge 
against  him.  The  squad  left  and  Bonito  sat  down  beside  him. 

"I  will  have  to  take  the  fellow  out  of  your  old  cell,  for  it  is  the 
best  one  in  the  place." 

"Am  I  to  be  confined  alone  ?" 

"You  may  go  in  with  him ;  but  he  is  a  drunken  fool  of  a  torea 
and- 

"A  toreador?" 

"A  toreador.     He  was  brought  here  beastly  drunk,  and  he  is 
quite  sober  yet." 

"Put  me  in,  Bonito.  I  want  to  get  acquainted  with  him.  I  want 
to  know  a  toreador." 


itry 
;or- 


GUT  RAYMOND.  257 

Bonito  made  haste  to  prepare  a  bed  for  his  old  prisoner,  now  come 
back;  but  he  refrained  from  telling  Linda  at  once,  as  he  knew  it 
would  pain  her  to  learn  that  the  handsome  American  was  again  in 
limbo. 

Bonito  took  good  care  to  tell  Candelario  that  Guy  was  a  prisoner 
and  to  hint  that  his  supper  from  her  cusine  would  be  acceptable.  The 
good  senora  responded  by  sending  a  savory  dish  with  tortillas  and 
chocolate. 

When<  Guy  entered  his  cell  after  supper  he  stretched  his  limbs 
upon  a  comfortable  bed,  and,  notwithstanding  the  labored  breathing 
of  his  fellow  prisoner  in  the  further  corner,  he  dropped  off  to  sleep. 

Doubtless  the  rough  experiences  that  had  attended  the  late  for- 
tunes of  Guy  Raymond  had  hardened  his  sensibility  to  any  sudden 
change  in  their  forecast  prophetic  of  evil.  To  a  naturally  philosophic 
turn,  he  had  added  the  advantage  of  a  knowledge  of  human  nature, 
gained  from  a  varied  source,  and  had  utilized  it  in  the  study  of  in- 
dividuality and  of  race.  The  readiness  with  which  he  accommodated 
himself  to  his  cell  and  the  ease  with  which  he  lapsed  into  slumber 
perhaps  may  have  been  greatly  due  to  his  intimate  relations  with  his 
jailor,  the  friendship  of  Linda,  and  the  tender,  good  will  of  Cande- 
lario, whose  edibles  were  always  at  his  command  when  a  prisoner. 
In  fact,  reflections  embracing  much  of  this  line  of  thought  absorbed 
him  as  the  consciousness  of  waking  reality  became  merged  into  the 
weird  phantasms  of  dreamland.  Here  Candelario  met  him  with  a  bas- 
ket, hid  beneath  the  folds  of  a  snowy  cover,  and  beckoned  him  to 
follow.  She  led  him  through  the  dark  streets  until  they  emerged  into 
the  country.  Before  him  were  mountains,  craggy  and  steep,  to  which 
she  pointed  encouragingly.  He  followed,  as  it  were,  under  a  spell 
that  deprived  him  of  any  power  to  object  to  her  guidance. 

Suddenly  they  entered  an  opening  in  the  side  of  the  highest 
mountain,  which  he  recognized  as  the  silver  mine  above  the  village  of 
the  Lipans.  Candelario  caused  him  to  seat  himself  beside  her  and 
to  partake  of  the  viands  in  the  basket.  She  gave  him  to  understand 
that  lie  would  have  need  of  all  his  strength  and  must  fortify  the  inner 
man  to  be  able  to  perform  a  task.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  repast 
.-lie  produced  a  pick  and  directed  him  to  displace  a  square  flagstone. 
He  mechanically  took  the  tool  and  began  to  pick  a  breach  on  the  fur- 
ther edge  to  introduce  a  lever.  The  strokes  rang  through  the  mine 
find  echoed  from  hill-girt  valley.  Under  the  rapid  blows  of  his  pick 
ih<-  purpose  was  soon  accomplished  and  lie  looked  around  for  a  ful- 
crum, but  in  vain.  Finally  his  companion  threw  him  a  skull,  with  a 
motion  indicating  that  the  revolting  remnant  of  humanity  would 


258  GUY  EAYMOND. 

suffice.  Guy  reluctantly  pushed  it  into  position,  and  then  introducing 
the  handle  of  his  pick  into  the  hole  he  had  made,  pried  up  the  stone  and 
threw  it  over.  This  disclosed  the  entrance  to  a  subterrean  vault  with 
steps  whose  outline,  barely  distinguishable,  were  lost  in  the  obscurity 
below.  Candelario  motioned  him  to  descend.  He  hesitated.  She 
then  drew  from  her  basket  a  lighted  lantern,  whose  rays  revealed  the 
bottom  of  the  vault  but  a  few  feet  below.  The  two  descended  the 
.  steps,  Guy  following  in  wonder  as  to  the  purpose  of  his  guide.  Can- 
delario gave  him  the  lantern  and  told  him  to  search  the  vault  for 
treasure.  Holding  the  lantern  above  his  head  he  groped  along  the 
narrow  way  until  he  reached  the  end  of  the  apartment  where  thriv 
was  an  enormous  chest.  This  he  opened  without  difficulty  and  there, 
lying  in  compartments,  were  gold  coins  of  every  denomination.  He 
filled  his  pockets  until  they  would  hold  no  more,  when  he  called  to 
Candelario  to  bring  her  basket;  but  on  looking  back,  she  was  not  to 
be  seen.  Hurrying  to  the  steps  he-  called  on  her  to  come,  hut  the 
concession  of  his  voice  was  painful  to  his  ears.  I  To  ascended  the 
flight  but  the  stone  had  been  replaced.  In  his  dismay  he  dropped 
the  lantern,  and  the  light  becoming  extinguished,  he  was  left  in  total 
darkness.  He  struggled  at  the  stone,  but  to  no  purpose,  his  greatest 
strength  being  inadequate  to  make  it  yield.  Tn  his  despair,  he  shouted 
aloud  for  help. 

"Who  are  you,  amigo?"  were  the  words  uttered  in  half  inebriated 
tones  that  greeted  Guy's  ear,  accompanied  by  a  rough  shake. 

"What  is  the  matter  ?  Por  Dios !  What  ails  you  ?"  was  asked 
again. 

Guy,  now  thoroughly  awake,  knew  that  he  had  been  at  his  old 
trick  of  dreaming,  and  collected  himself  sufficiently  to  realize  that  he 
was  in  his  cell  and  that  the  toreador,  now  somewhat  sobered,  had 
been  doubtless  aroused  by  his  calls  to  be  rescued  from  the  closed 
vault. 

"Are  you  the  toreador?"  asked  Guy,  as  the  other  rolled  back  to  his 
pallet. 

"Si,  senor — no  senor — It  is  possible  I  am  a  toreador,  and  ye 
I  know  myself  and  could  only  tell  where  I  am,  I  am  not  one." 

"I  can  enlighten  you  a  little  then.     You  are  in  the  carcel,  an 
you  take  the  jailor's  word  for  it,  you  are  a  toreador." 

"The  carcel !     The  carcel !     Then  if  Bonito  says  I  am  a  torea 
the  illusion  is  on  my  side,  and  I  am  not  a  major  domo,  for  he  knows 
well  the  major  domo." 

"My  friend,  you  are  drunk,  as  your  thickness  of  speech  indica 

"I  was  at  the  vinoteria,  it  is  true,  but  not  drunk,  senor." 


»  his 
ador 

10WS 

licates." 


GUY  RAYMOND.  259 

"Bereft  of  your  senses,  then,  since  you  cannot  tell  if  you  belong 
to  the  toreadors  or  not/' 

"Es  verdad,  senor.  It  is  a  question.  It  all  happened  so  suddenly. 
It  is  a  question." 

"What  is  a  question?" 

"If  I  am  a  toreador,  a  major  domo,  or  Senor  Ruiz  ?" 

"Ruiz!     What  of  Ruiz?"' 

"Es  muy  caballero." 

"Your  voice  is  familiar  to  me  in  spite  of  its  thickness.  What  is 
your  name,  senor  toreador?'7 

"Jose — no — Ruiz,  senor.     Manuel  Ruiz." 

"Manuel  Ruiz !  Not  he  whom  I  know,"  said  Guy,  half  to  him- 
self." You  are  not  certain  then,  if  you.  are  Jose  or  Manuel  Ruiz, 
or  a  major  domo,  or  a  toreador.  My  friend,  you  had  better  go  to 
sleep,  and  perhaps  in  the  morning  you  will  be  able  to  tell  your  name 
and  occupation  and  completely  fix  in  your  own  mind  your  absolute 
identity." 

"You  talk  well,  senor,  for  a  Frenchman,  not  unlike  a  friend  of 
mine;  in  fact,  senor,  your  voice  sounds  like  my  friend's." 

"Not  much  of  a  Frenchman,  senor  toreador." 

"It  was  a  Frenchman  arrested.     It  was  so  said  on  the  street." 

ait   until   morning,   amigo,    and   your   ideas   will   have   more 
t.     I'm  going  to  sleep." 

Guy  was  awakened  the  next  morning  by  the  movements  of  his 
fellow  prisoner,  who  was  knocking  on  the  door  and  calling  for  Bonito. 
The  light  from  the  grated  window  made  objects  quite  distinct  around 
the  cell,  and  he  had  a  fair  view  of  his  companion  in  misfortune.  ;is 
that  worthy  stood  bawling  for  the  jailer  and  making  a  noise  on  the 
door  with  the  heel  of  his  shoe  for  a  knocker.  The  thick  voice  of  the 
toreador  had  been  discarded  and  Bonito's  name  was  CM  lied  in  such 
familiar  tones  that  Guy  raised  himself  on  his  elbow  and  gave  to  the 
other  a  searching  glance  as  he  turned  disgusted  from  his  attempts  k, 
gain  the  attention  of  the  jailor. 

"Jose !  as  I  live !" 

"What!     Senor  Raymond  !" 

"That  dress !     What  does  it  mean?     And  your  confinement  here?" 

"I  have  not  a  distinct  recollection  of  an  arrest ;  but  as  for  the  tor- 
eador part  I  can  easily  explain.  But  you,  senor;  by  what  bad  fortune 
does  it  come  that  you  are  in  the  carcel  ?" 

"That  I  cannot  tell,  not  having  been  informed.  But  Jose,  how 
about  your  dress?  You  did  not  desert  Father  Ignacio?" 

"Not  I.  This  tniruery  was  <>nlv  put  on  to  carry  a  point  and  to 
save  a  friend.  To  save  Manuel  Ruiz." 


260  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"Ruiz  ?     Please  explain." 

Jose  informed  Guy  of  the  whole  affair,  dwelling  on  the  minut( 
points  with  great  volubility,  down  to  the  moment  he  left  Manuel 
the  jacal  of  the  old  basket-maker. 

"Then  you  know  not  what  become  of  Ruiz." 

"How  should  I,  senor,  when  I  have  not  seen  him  since,  and  doi 
even  know  how  I  came  here  ?" 

"After  you  left  Ruiz  what  happened  ?" 

"Enough,  senor,  or  I  would  not  be  here.  We  stopped,  we  tore 
dors,  at  every  vinoteria  and  drank,  and  drank.  I  expected  to  be 
arrested  at  every  step  as  Ruiz,  but  it  must  be  that  toreadors — and 
come  to  think  of  it,  it  is  the  custom  to  look  upon  them  as  above  ar- 
rest while  they  are  amusing  the  people.  It  was  plain  that  I  was  fol- 
lowed as  the  one  wanted,  and  it  is  plain  to  me  now,  senor,  that  the 
excitement  of  knowing  that  I  was  running  some  risk,  together  with 
the  happy  feeling  of  being  so  finely  dressed,  and  ogled  by  the  senoritas 
from  the  windows,  caused  me  to  drink  too  much  wine  and  mescal, 
and  when  we  parted  at  the  vinoteria,  in  the  Plaza  de  Armas,  I  remem- 
ber nothing  more  until  you  were  calling  for  help  last  night,  when  half 
dazed  from  my  debauch  I  rose  and  shook  you.  Do  you  remember  it, 
senor?" 

"I  was  dreaming,  Jose.     It  was  as  bad  as  a  nightmare.     What 
treatment  do  you  expect  when  they  discover  that  you  are  not  Ruiz  ?" 

"They  committed  the  blunder.     Am  I  to  blame  for  not  beii 
Ruiz?" 

"These  questions  will  cut  no  figure.     You  aided  an  escape." 

"They  will  have  to  prove  that." 

"How  about  Ruiz's  dress,  whose  tinsel  made  you  so  happy  ?" 

"They  will  have  to  prove  it  is  his  dress." 

"How  about  you  having  warned  him  ?" 

"Let  them  prove  it." 

"They  will  believe  you  were  eavesdropping  at  headquarters, 
stead  of  being  asleep,  while  the  arrest  was  discussed  in  the  n< 
room." 

"Let  them  prove  I  was  not  asleep." 

"Perhaps  your  determination  to  rest  the  onus  probandi  on  the  pr< 
secution  when  these  points  arise,  will  not  be  agreed  to  by  a  Mexico 
military  tribunal.     It  will  be  apt  to  take  many  things  for  grants 
and  will  supply  manufactured  missing  links  to  complete  the  chain 
necessary  to  convict  you.     Your  act  was  heroic,  Jose,  but  you 
more  risk  than  you  imagine." 

"What  is  the  onus  probandi,  senor?" 


m    ran 


GUY  RAYMOND.  261 

"The  burden  of  proof.  Under  Mexican  martial  law,  no  proof 
is  necessary.  The  will  of  the  military  despot  decides  the  case." 

"There  is  old  Bonito's  voice  in  the  court.  He  heard  me  call  and 
knock  this  morning  and  paid  no  attention  to  it.  The  crusty  old 
miser." 

"He  does  not  know  one  of  his  prisoners,  at  all  events." 

"That's  myself." 

"He  does  not  dream  you  are  other  than  what  that  dress  declares 
you." 

"He  will  awake  from  his  dream  today." 

"Not  as  much  surprised  as  when  I  awoke  from  mine  last  night  and 
found  that  I  was  not  buried  alive." 

"Was  it  a  bad  dream,  senor  ?" 

"Worse  than  bad." 

"You  should  pray  to  St.  Anthony,  senor.  When  I  have  bad 
dreams  I  never  fail  to  pray  to  St.  Anthony,  and  then  they  never  come 
true." 

"Perhaps  they  would  not  come  true  if  you  did  not  pray  to  the 
saint." 

"Don't  you  believe  it,  senor.  St.  Anthony  is  good.  The  night 
when  you  were  fighting  Vasquez  and  the  whole  crowd  in  the  Cabeza 
de  Torro  I  was  in  despair  for  your  safety,  when  I  looked  up  and  saw 
the  picture  of  the  blessed  St.  Anthony  on  the  wall.  I  immediately 
asked  his  protection  for  you  and  he  saved  you." 

"I  thought  it  was  Ruiz;  and  all  this  time  I  have  been  bestowing 
on  him  the  gratitude  that  belongs  to  St.  Anthony." 

"It  is  true,  senor.  The  good  saint  used  Ruiz  in  answer  to  my 
little  prayer." 

"I  see  it  all  now,  Jose.     You  should  have  told  me  this  before." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

When  Bonito  saw  Ducio  well  into  Linda's  apartment  he  pro- 
ceeded across  the  court  into  the  street  and  took  his  way  towards  the 
plaza.  He  muttered  to  himself  as  he  shuffled  along,  now  casting  his 
eyes  this  way  and  that,  in  a  nervous  manner,  or  turning  completely 
around  as  if  he  wanted  nothing  to  escape  his  observation. 

"That  Frenchy  came  none  too  late,"  he  muttered.  "I  had  not 
been  a  minute  out  of  the  vault,  Bonito  must  be  more  careful." 

The  jailor  turned  north  when  the  plaza  was  reached  and  hurried 
by  the  monte  pio's,  who  had  quite  a  number  of  customers  engaging 
his  attention. 


Guv  KAY.MOXD. 


12  into 


"The  monte  pio  is  always  in  luck,"  growled  Bonito,  casting 
the  establishment  an  envious  «jance.  ••Everybody  making  money  and 
the  jailor  at  his  wits  end.  But  the  notary  may  give  me  some  consola- 
tion." 

Xdt  more  than  two  minutes'  walk  from  the  monte  pio's,  and  situ- 
ated on  the  west  side  of  the  Calle  Soledad,  detached  from  buildings 
on  either  side,  stood  a  house  of  the  conventional  build.  A  single 
arched  doorway  constituted  the  street  entrance,  while  two  grated 
windows  set  low  in  the  massive  masonry,  furnished  ventilation  and 
light.  On  a  homely  piece  of  board  fastened  over  the  door  and  in 
letters  executed  unmistakably  by  an  amateur,  was  the  word  "Xotario." 
A  peep  inside  the  apartment  nearer  the  plaza,  through  the  deep  win- 
dow would  have  disclosed  the  presence  of  a  lean,  little  man  sitting 
by  a  table,  on  which  were  books  and  papers  placed  without  regard 
to  order,  his  attention  apparently  engaged  by  a  scrutiny  of  some  of 
the  documents  before  him.  A  desk,  with  numerous  pigeon  hole- 
surmounting  it,  occupied  a  place  at  the  rear  wall  and  near  a  half 
dozen  shelves  amply  filled  with  volumes  of  every  conceivable  size. 
A  heavy  oaken  chest  was  just  visible  in  the  shadow  of  a  corner,  while 
a  single  chair,  other  than  the  one  occupied,  completed  the  furniture 
of  the  room.  If  the  busy,  occupant  had  glanced  but  a  moment  from 
his  papers  out  of  the  window,  he  would  have  .<een  through  an  opening 
in  the  row  of  opposite  buildings  a  pretty  bend  of  the  river,  where 
its  blue  waters  were  eddying  and  boiling1  above  its  bed  of  grasses,  to 
be  lost  again  a  few  feet  further  on  in  the  continuation  of  a  graceful 
arc.  The  occupant  of  the  room,  however,  appeared  too  much  en- 

-ed  to  be  conscious  of  the  outer  world.  For  a  long  time  on  the 
morning  that  Bonito  had  been  observed  by  Ducio  to  issue  from  the 
unaccountable  place  under  the  lounge,  the  swarthy  little  notarv  had 
been  busy  with  some  papers,  in  which  he  seemed  to  be  extremely  in- 

-:ed.  The  commanding  general  had  sent  for  him  in  great  haste, 
and  immediately  upon  his  return  from  headquarters,  he  had  been 
examining  papers.  His  first  act  on  returning  w,-:~  I  himself 

and  spread  out  before  him  on  the  table  a  paper  he  had  taken  from 
his  wallet.  He  looked  at  it  long  and  curiously,  and  occasionally 
would  give  vent  to  some  expression  of  impatience  or  doubt." 

"So  the  general  thinks  this  paper  is  important  and  may  yet  fur- 
nish evidence  against  a  prisoner."  he  said,  as  he  leaned  bnck  and  looked 
thoughtfully  at.  the  ceiling.  Then  bending  forward  again  over  the 
table,  he  scrutinized  the  paper  and  began  to  speculate: 

"This  is  certainly  a  memorandum  sketch  of  an  island  or  sea  coast. 
Here  is  a  rude  outline  of  a  ship:  here  a  bayou,  a  road,  two  bri 


Gkrr  RAYMOND.  263 

tho.-e  sin;ill  rin^r-  IIM-JIM  something.  Two  rows  of  these  rin^,-.  and  here 
lo  the  ri<:'ht  they  are  numbered  ;  tlic  outer  OIKS  one,  two,  three:  the 
inner  one-,  one  ;m<l  f\vo.  One,  two,  three;  one  and  two.  Santa 
Maria  !  \\'h;i(  e;in  f  hey'he  numbered  for?" 

Such  were  !li<;  notary's  reflection.-  as  he  peered  over  the  paper 
vvhicli  had  heen  taken  from  Ducio  by  <he  militarv.  The  little  man 
was  considered  hy  everyone  to  he  an  expert  in  all  that  pertained  to  pa- 
pers, and  headquarter-  ],;,,)  called  on  him  to  pass  his  opinion  before 
the  doeiiment  should  he  returned  to  the  Krcnehman.  lint  he  was 
pu/xled  for  once  to  divine  the  object  of  the  draught  hefore  him.  lie 
leaned  upon  his  elhow  with  an  expression  indicating  an  unwillingness 
to  acknowledge  him.-elf  haflled,  and  repeating  rneehanieallv  the  mini- 
••one,  two,  three;  one  and  two.  One.  two,  three;  one  and  two." 

Suddenly  he  -pram:  to  hi-   feet  and  exclaimed  : 
'or  todos   los  Santo.- !" 

if  to  the  chest,  he  opened  it  quickly  and  took  from  it  a 
package  of  papers,  which  he  brought  to  the  tahle  with  trembling  hands 
that  indicated  a  su<iden  excitement.  Krom  the  [tackauc  he  produced 
a  -mall  paper,  much  discolored,  and  smoothing  it  out,  as  he  had  done 
the  first,  under  investigation,  he  read  from  it.,  in  an  undertone.  What 
id  was  as  I'ollov. 

A  lonir  the  outer  const  you'll 

Lilt  le  circle-      one,  two,  three. 

While  other  circles  in    plain   view 

Are  numbered  only  one  and  two. 

The  bayou   makes  a  sudden  bend 

I)irec(|y   where  these  circles  end. 

Thc.-o  circles  are  hut    hills  of  sand. 

That,  border  on   the  island's  -trand. 

Two  cro.-.-iiiL'S,  >panned  by  bridge-  each, 

I  n    pl.-iincst    road   lead   to  the  beach  ; 

rriie  first   that  you  will  have  fo  do 

Is  to  draw  a   line  from  two  to  two  : 

And   if  thro1  a   riddle  you  would  see, 

|)raw  a   line  from  one  to  three. 

At    intersection   of  the-e   line- 

I  -  -omet  hiri^-  that   one  seldom   finds  : 

An  iron  pot,  with  an  iron  lid 

henoaf h  the  cro-,-  securelv  hid 

Hold-  the  treasure  and  the  o-n|d 

rraken   |,v  a  seaman   bold 

Krom    (he   Spaniard,-"   ample  -tore 

And  bui'ied  here  on  (Jalvex'-  -bore. 


264  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"Bonito's  rhyme  is  explained  at  last,"  exclaimed  the  notary,  af 
satisfactorily  examining  the  two  papers.  He  even  drew  the  s 
hills,,  numbered  them  like  on  the  original,  and  crossed  the  lines 
directed  in  the  rhyme.  He  placed  his  pen  on  the  intersection  an 
thought  of  the  probable  treasure  that  lay  there,  known,  perhaps,  only 
to  himself.  In  the  hands  of  Bonito  and  the  Frenchman  separated 
they  would  remain  an  enigma.  He  must  return  the  sketch,  but 
Bonito  would  probably  never  think  much  of  the  rhyme  if  told  it  was 
meaningless.  He  proceeded  at  once,  however,  to  make  a  true  copy 
of  each,  which  he  carefully  enveloped,  endorsed  and  placed  in  the  chest. 

The  notary  had  resumed  his  seat  and  was  thinking  of  his  discovery 
of  the  secret  contained  in  the  two  papers  which  had  reached  him  from 
such  opposite  quarters,  when  he  beheld  the  jailor  pass  close  by  the 
grated  window  with  a  glance  that  said  unmistakably  that  he  was  to 
be  a  visitor. 

Bonito  was  greeted  with  the  notary's  characteristic  politeness, 
and  motioned  to  the  chair  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table. 

"This  is  a  dark  hole,  Senor  Notario,  with  little  more  light  than 
one  of  my  cells,"  said  Bonito,  glancing  around,  as  he  seated  himself 
and  thrust  out  his  short  fat  legs  while  his  hands  joined  before  his 
corporosity.  "Always  in  papers !"  he  continued  as  he  ducked  his  head 
and  leered  at  the  other  from  under  his  shaggy  eyebrows. 

"My  business  requires  it,  senor." 

"No  answer  from  New  Orleans  ?" 

"None."  i 

"Antonio  must  be  dead." 

"Dead  or  living  elsewhere." 

"He  was  old — old,  senor.     I  am  positive  Antonio  is  dead." 

"And  the  secret  of  his  wealth  has  died  with  him  ?" 

"Unless  that  paper  and  its  lines  mean  something.  Did  you  ev 
try  to  make  the  puzzle  out?" 

"I  was  looking  at  it  only  this  morning,  Don  Manoel,  and  I  could 
get  no  light  from  it.  It  will  ever  be  a  mystery,  I  fear." 

"The  other  papers  throw  no  light  upon  it?" 

"No  senor.     Merely  letters ;  letters  of  little  importance." 

"Es  mala  fortuna,  ma-la-for-tuna,  senor.  There  is  only  bad  lu 
for  Bonito.  The  monte  pio  would  have  got  a  fortune  out  of  th 
paper.  Senor,  some  men  are  born  lucky;  some  unlucky." 

"It  is  true,  but  are  you  not  stretching  a  little  your  imaginati 
when  you  place  so  much  importance  on  a  few  jingling  lines,  foun 
on  a  piece  of  soiled  paper?     It  may  be  a  mere  doggerel  written  i 
an  idle  moment  by  a  buccaneer  who  was  weaving  a  web  of  purr  fancy 


' 


GUY  RAYMOND.  265 

"But  old  Antonio  set  great  store  upon  the  papers  he  left,  and  you 
have  them  all  here.  The  paper  that  speaks  of  gold  and  treasure  is 
the  only  one  that  hints  at  value,  as  you  say;  the  others  are  all  old 
letters  of  little  importance.  The  thing  is  truly  a  riddle  and  one 
that  will  never  be  guessed,  since  it  baffles  your  cunning." 

"Is  there  a  Frenchman,  a  prisoner,  at  the  carcel?  Something  was 
said  nbout  such  a  prisoner  at  headquarters  this  morning." 

"He  is  free  enough  now.  An  impudent  fellow,  Notario;  an  \m- 
pudent  fellow,  with  a  bad  treacherous  eye." 

"He  is  from  New  Orleans  ?" 

"I  think  he  said  so." 
And  knew  Antonio  ?" 
'Perhaps  he  did.     Stupid !     I  should  have  asked  him." 

"Well,  make  inquiry,  Don  Manoel,  and  let  me  know.  It  may  be 
that  this  Frenchman  will  be  of  service.  But  hint  nothing  about 
Antonio's  papers." 

"Not  a  word.  You  well  know,  Senor  Notario,  that  I  am  discreet, 
if  anything." 

"A  most  excellent  trait,  Don  Manoel." 

"But  you  are  not  going?"  continued  the  notary,  as  Bonito  rose  as 
leave. 

es,  amigo  mio;  I  would  see  this  Frenchman  at  once,  and  then 
reel  may  need  me,  for  the  town  is  in  an  uproar  from  the  torea- 
dors, and  one  of  the  outcomes  of  it  all  may  be  some  lodgers  for 
Bonito."  N 

The  jailer  shuffled  away  down  the  street,  after  returning  a  polite 
salutation  from  the  obsequious  little  official. 

The  latter,  left  alone,  seated  himself  at  his  table  and  leaned  for- 
ward in  deep  thought,  knitting  his  brow  and  moving  his  head  to  and 
fro,  his  lean,  long  ringers  running  through  his  scanty  locks  with  each 
forward  motion.  The  notary  was  in  a  deep  study,  }^et  no  special 
emotion  was  indexed  by  his  immobile  features. 

*     *     * 

When  Ducio  entered  Linda's  apartment  he  found  that  the  parties, 
from  whom  had  come  the  voices,  had  vacated  it.  It  was  certainly 
unoccupied,  and  Ducio  began  to  wonder  how  they  had  effected  an 
egress,  when  he  beheld  the  opening  leading  into  the  garden.  To  this 
he  directed  his  steps,  and  looking  out,  discovered  the  door  in  the  wall 
shutting  out  the  view  to  the  plaza.  He  remembered  the  garden  from 
+hc  chance  look  accorded  him  a  little  earlier  when  he  saw  Josef  a  De  la 
Torre  enter  it  from  the  street.  Ducio's  curiosity  was  now  thoroughly 
aroused.  His  natural  disposition  was  to  do  something  not  altogether 


JD 

the  cai 


266       -  GUY  RAYMOND. 


12fS   of 

: 


proper  when  he  felt  himself  to  be  unwatched  with  the  belongings 
others  at  his  mercy.     He  had  heard  the  jailer  make  his  exit  and  tl 
ladies  were  not  visible.     He  scrutinized  everything  in  the  apartmei 
then  returned  to  the  hall. 

The  latter  was  vacant  with  the  mysterious  lounge  its  only 
oiture.  He  explored  the  rooms  on  the  other  side,  but  the  usual  scan- 
tiness of  effects  of  the  Mexican  household  made  a  glanec  sufficient 
to  .satisfy  his  taste  for  exploration.  The  lounge  now  claimed  his  at- 
tention. He  turned  back  the  gaudily  colored  blanket  and  discovered 
an  ordinary  mattress.  A  pull  at  the  latter  failed  to  move  it.  The 
end  of  a  fine  hair  cord,  decorated  with  a  tassel,  protruded  from  the 
bed.  This  Ducio  seized,  and  drawing  it  towards  him  the  end  of  the 
mattress  sprang  up  on  a  hinge  and  disclosed  a  narrow  opening,  down 
whose  dark  depths  the  first  two  or  three  steps  of  a  flight  that  lost 
itself  in  the  obscurity,  were  visible.  Ducio  shuddered  involuntarily 
at  the  forbidding  look  of  this  gloomy  descent,  yet  he  fairly  chafed  to 
solve  its  mystery.  Hurriedly  casting  a  glance  into  the  court,  where 
no  one  was  to  be  seen,  he  returned  and  looked  once  more  down  the 
dark  passage.  A  light — a  light  was  necessary.  He  remembered  that 
Bonito  held  an  extinguished  candle  in  his  hand  when  he  had  emerged 
from  the  place  only  a  short  time  before.  A  short  search  put  him  in 
possession  of  perhaps  the  same  candle  used  by  the  jailer.  This  Ducio 
lighted  and  with  a  just  perceptible  exhibition  of  reluctance,  placed 
his  foot  upon  the  first  step  and,  holding  forward  the  light,  endeavored 
to  see  further  down  the  stairway.  But  the  feeble  rays  from  the 
dip  lent  no  apparent  aid  to  the  daylight  and  the  venturesome  Creole 
had  placed  his  foot  on  the  third  and  fourth  steps  with  very  little 
satisfaction  obtained  from  occular  perception  of  the  situation  beneath 
him. 

His  head  had  sunk  below  the  floor  level  in  his  downward  progress 
when  he  remembered  that  he  should  close  the  lounge  in  order  to  defef 
detection  should  the  jailer  return  before  his  exploration  would 
finished.  Reaching  back  under  this  sudden  reflection,  he  pulled  do 
the  mattress,  which  shut  with  a  click.  The  sound  startled  him,  but 
urged  by  desperation,  he  began  his  descent  step  by  step.  On  either 
hand  the  masonry  was  solid  and  the  passage  narrow  and  plainly  dis- 
tinct. A  few  more  steps  and  he  had  gained  the  floor  of  the  vault. 
The  arch  was  low,  almost  within  reach,  and  rested  on  rough  walls 
not  more  than  two  strides  apart.  With  cautious  tread  he  moved 
along  its  length,  when  his  leg  struck  against  something  sharp 
that  reached  nearly  to  his  knee.  Lowering  his  candle  he  diseovri 
a  chests  of  medium  size  and  near  it  a  stool,  upon  the  top  of  wliii 


;;:;: 


GUY  RAYMOND.  2(57 

were  those  evident  marks  of  tallow  that  indicate  wheiv  a  candle  has 
been  made  to  stick.  Ducio  comprehending,  melted  a  fraction  of  the 
grease,  and  soon  his  candle  \vas  standing  on  the  stool.  He  tried  t he- 
lid.  It  was  locked.  Retaking  the  candle,  he  directed  its  ravs  into 
the  keyhole  and  peered  after  them.  It  was  a  spring  lock.  He  re- 
placed the  candle,  produced  a  hea\ y  knife  from  his  pocket  and,  hold- 
ing it  close  to  the  light,  opened  two  or  three  curious  hlades.  One 
of  these,  long  and  slim,  having  a  turn  at  the  end,  was  selected  and 
introduced  into  the  keyhole.  After  considerable  manipulation  the 
lock  yielded  and  Ducio  raised  the  lid  with  his  lef!  hand.  His  eyes 
were  dazzled  with  the  view  of  the  contents.  He  seized  the  candle 
and,  holding  it  close  to  the  interior,  its  rays  were  reflected  by  yellow 
gold  and  bright  silver  in  coins  of  different  sizes.  Several  bags  dis- 
closed their  precious  contents  by  the  sharp  round  edges' of  the  coins 
that  marked  their  sides.  Kxcited.  Ducio  opened  a  blade  of  his  knife 
and  cut  into  the  largest  bag,  from  which  fell  several  Mexican  doub- 
loons. A  trance-like  expression  fell  upon  his  features  as  his  eyes 
became  riveted  upon  the  treasure,  and  his  look  \vas  absolutely  wild 
when  he  glanced  from  the  fortune  of  coins,  to  the  right  and  to  the  left, 
in  nervous  alarm  as  if  in  dread  lest  the  genius  of  retribution  were 
upon  his  track  to  bring  punishment  for  his  temerity.  His  features 
transferred  to  canvas  as  the  crowding  emotions  of  satisfaction,  of 
dread,  of  vexation  played  with  the  muscles  and  nerves  of  his  swarthy 
physiognomy,  would  have  ranked  with  the  chefs  d'oeuvres  of  the  mas- 
ters. Here  was  gold,  precious  gold;  but  weighty  and  burdensome, 
arid  in  a  subterranean  apartment  with  a  single  place  of  exit,  to 
psss  which,  even  without  such  a  precious  burden  would  be  to  run  a 
dangerous  gauntlet.  The  crime  of  knowledge  would  be  scarcely  less 
than  the  crime  of  appropriation.  But  did  not  the  strange  fortune 
which  had  led  to  this  discovery  intend  that  the  eventuation  of  the 
adventure  should  be  as  successful  in  his  favor  as  had  been  the  fortuity 
which  had  directed  his  steps  to  the  vault? 

Such  were  Ducio's  thoughts  as  the  treasure  filled  his  vision  with  a 
maze  of  dazzling  beauty  that  alternated  between  a  crowd  of  sparkling 
coins  and  a  blended  mass  pf  wealth  embodying  all  the  possfbilities 
of  ease,  of  pleasure,  of  dissipation  and  gratified  desire.  With  hand 
trembling  from  his  excitement,  he  stuck  the  candle  to  the  edge  of  the 
chest  and  leaned  forward  to  handle  and  inspect  the  fallen  pieces, 
but  the  nervous  hand  had  failed  to  securely  place  the  light  upon  its 
narrow  footing  and  it  fell  extinguished  among  the  coins.  The  lid 
fell  forward  with  a  bang,  and  candle  and  knife  were  securely  locked 
in  the  chest.  Darkness,  unspeakably  dark,  followed.  Ducio,  bewil- 


268  GUY  RAYMOND. 


life  of 


dered,  stood  still  for  a  moment  to  collect  his  ideas,  but  for  the  life 
him  he  could  not  remember  the  direction  to  the  stairs.  He  would 
feel  his  way.  Slowly  he  felt  along  the  wall,  and  after  many  more 
steps  than  those  which  it  seemed  he  had  taken  before  coming  in  con- 
tact with  the  chest,  he  found  a  flight  of  steps.  Ascending  these  his 
head  came  in  contact  with  a  hard  substance,  and  putting  up  his  hand 
he  found  it  to  be  smooth  rock. 

What  could  it  mean?  Ducio  pushed  against  it  with  all  his 
might;  but  it  would  not  yield.  In  terror  he  called  aloud,  but  the 
dull  echo  of  his  voice  in  the  narrow  confine  but  mocked  his  appeal, 
and  finally  he  sat  down  to  meditate. 

*  *  *  * 

When  Bonito  returned  from  his  visit  to  the  notario,  he  brought 
away  the  rhyming  paper,  which  that  official  had  pronounced  mere 
doggerel,  not  being  willing  to  part  with  it  as  worthless,  even  on  the 
opinion  of  a  person  so  respected  for  his  powers  of  divination  and 
interpretation.  When  he  reached  the  carcel  he  found  that  no  one 
was  at  home  and  the  Frenchman  was  nowhere  visible.  He  noticed 
the  disarrangemnt  of  the  blanket  on  the  lounge,  but  the  mattress 
was  intact  and  he  smoothed  back  the  cover.  He  pulled  from  his 
pocket  the  puzzling  paper  and  hesitated  as  he  glanced  at  it,  as  if  in 
doubt  about  some  course  he  was  to  pursue. 

"I  must  be  more  careful/'  he  muttered.  "The  Frenchman  came 
near  seeing  me  come  from  the  vault.  I  will  wait  until  after  supper 
and  when  things  are  quiet  I  will  slip  down  and  put  this  jingling 
paper  in  the  chest.  It  may  be  of  value  yet.  'An  iron  pot  with  an 
iron  lid  holds  the  treasure  and  the  gold.'  It  sounds  valuable  if  it 
does  jingle.  But  gold  jingles,  it  does.  Bonito  will  keep  the  paper." 

Bonito's  face  was  a  study  while  thus  soliloquizing.  He  put  the 
document  back  into  his  pocket  and  giving  the  blanket  an  extra 
smoothing,  he  went  about  his  duties. 

It  was  about  dark  before  he  found  it  convenient  to  make  a  descent 
to  the  vault.  He  had  regretfully  welcomed  back  his  old  prisoner, 
Guy,  and  concluded  his  attentions  for  the  day  to  his  prisoners,  when 
he  entered  the  hall,  fastened  the  door,  assured  himself  that  all  was 
quiet  and  went  to  get  a  candle  to  light  him  below.  He  searched  in 
vain  for  the  new  dip  he  had  used  that  same  day  and  was  forced  to 
procure  another  from  Linda. 

"Strange !  Very  strange !  A  new  candle,  not  a-  quarter  of  an 
inch  burned !  There  is  not  a  rat  in  Bexar,  or  I  would  swear  a  rat 
had  taken  it  off.  A  rat  with  no  more  than  two  legs,  no  doubt,  and 


GUY  KAYMOND.  269 

a  candle  costs  a  quartilla.  There  is  no  luck  for  Bonito.  A  quartilla 
is  not  a  fortune  but  quartillas  make  pesos." 

Such  were  Bonito's  half  uttered  thoughts  as  he  prepared  his 
light  and  went  through  the  necessary  motions  to  gain  admission  to 
the  stairs  down  which  Ducio  had  preceded  him  some  hours  before. 
His  slippers,  down  at  the  heel,  made  a  clatter  on  the  steps,  where 
shuffling  could  not  be  the  antidote  for  looseness,  and  so  annoyed  the 
now  more  than  usually  careful  jailer  that  he  discarded  them  and 
proceeded  in  stocking  feet. 

Ducio's  meditations  were  anything  but  pleasant  after  he  had 
essayed  to  raise  the  unaccountable  flagstone  that  had  so  mysteriously 
closed  up  the  place  of  exit  to  the  hall.  He  was  buried  alive  with 
untold  treasure  that  was  as  valueless  as  so  much  clay  unless  he  could 
escape  with  it.  or  a  portion  of  it,  in  some  way.  He  could  not  tell 
how  soon,  or  how  long  deferred  would  be  Bonito's  next  visit  to  the 
vault.  The  chances  were  that  he  would  certainly  appear  before 
hunger  and  thirst  would  have  time  to  claim  a  victim.  Ducio  deter- 
mined to  remain  at  the  stairs,  in  order  to  take  advantage  of  the  first 
opening  of  the  trap  to  spring  forth  to  liberty.  The  seductive  charm 
of  the  contents  of  the  chest,  which  had  at  first  so  completely  woven 
a  spell  over  his  mind  and  so  unnerved  his  physical  being,  had  now 
become  lost  in  the  yearning  desire  to  escape  from  the  subterranean 
trap.  The  whole  marshalled  resources  of  his  ingenuity  could  not 
materialize  a  plan  of  escape,  so  he  settled  down  to  a  waiting,  which, 
if  not  altogether  patient,  was  not  without  some  grounds  for  hope 
of  a  speedy  release.  More  than  once,  while  seated  upon  the  steps, 
he  heard  the  sound  of  feet,  and  several  times  a  voice  in  a  high  key 
penetrated  from  above  as  if  struggling  through  the  minutest  crevice. 
The  darkness  was  oppressive  and  his  patience  began  to  wear  away 
so  that  he  had  a  half  mind  to  call  aloud,  when  the  inky  blackness 
of  the  vault  retreated  before  a  faint  glimmer  that  revealed  the  out- 
lines of  the  walls,  the  rugged  arch  and  an  opening  at  the  further 
end  of  the  apartment.  The  latter  revelation  caused  the  truth  to 
dawn  upon  Ducio's  mind  that,  in  the  darkness  and  his  own  confusion, 
he  had  been  trying  to  escape  by  a  different  flight  of  steps  than  that 
by  which  he  had  descended  from  the  hall.  He  half  rose  from  his 
seat,  but  crouched  back  again,  in  excited  expectancy,  as  the  light 
became  stronger  and  a  noise  made 'by  its  bearer  greeted  his  ears. 
Bonito  soon  waddled  into  sight  with  a  candle  elevated  about  the 
height  of  his  forehead,  and  with  that  expression  of  conscious  cer- 
tainty of  Ix-ino-  alone  and  un&een  that  leaves  utterly  unguarded  the 
indices  of  purpose  that  mark  characteristic  faces.  A  long  breath 


270  GUY  RAYMOND. 


of  his 


escaped  him  as  he  entered,  caused  doubtless  by  the  exertion  o 
descent.  Three  or  four  of .  his  short  strides  brought  him  to  where 
stood  the  chest.  Cocking  his  eye  down  at  the  stool  he  gave  it 
momentary  inspection,  then  reaching  down  he  stuck  the  candle 
it,  as  Ducio  had  done,  but  with  much  more  deliberation.  Assuming 
an  erect  position  he  put  his  hand  in  his  jacket  pocket,  pulled  it  out, 
felt  again,  then  running  it  down  in  his  trousers  pocket  he  drew 
forth  a  paper  and  bending  over  to  the  light,  squinted  at  it. 

"This  is  it,"  he  muttered.  "The  notario  thinks  it  only  a  jingle. 
If  it  jingles,  so  does  gold  and  silver.  Old  Antonio  set  store  on  it, 
and  Bonito  will  keep  it.  Keep  it  here,  in  this  secret  place  that  holds 
what  little  he  has.  This  is  a  convenient  place.  The  padres  who 
built  the  mission  made  it  for  a  different  use,  but  it  serves  Bonito 
well  to  hold  his  little  change  safe  from  prestimos  and  other  thieveries/' 

What  an  explosion  there  would  have  been,  if  the  miser  had  been 
conscious  of  the  Creole's  curious  gaze  and  his  mingled  thoughts, 
indicisive  of  a  course,  in  which  murder,  flight,  confession  and  decep- 
tion came  up  for  consideration. 

Bonito,  however,  being  ignorant  of  Ducio's  supervision,  deliber- 
ately produced  his  keys  and  seating  himself  on  the  part  of  the  stool 
opposite  to  the  candle,  he  opened  the  chest,  folded  the  paper  con- 
cerning which  he  had  begun  his  soliloquy  and  was  about  to  place 
it  in  among  his  treasure,  when  he  let  it  fall  to  the  floor,  and  seizing 
the  candle,  held  it  so  that  its  rays  fell  full  upon  the  shining  pesos 
and  disordered  doubloons. 

"Que  diablo  es  esso !"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  reached  for  the  strange 
knife.  "For  via  de  mi  madre!  A  knife!  The  sack  of  doubloons 
cut !  Ah !  My  missing  candle !  But  a  little  more  used,"  he  said, 
holding  it  up  for  inspection.  "Could  Linda  have  ventured  down 
here?  No.  This  knife  is  strange.  Santa  Maria!  How  came  it 
be  locked  in  the  chest?" 

"Ah !     The  other  stairs !      Christo !     Could  anyone  have  fou 
the  secret  of  that  slab  in  the  floor  of  the  cell  ?    Perhaps  the  toreador 
Dios !     The  toreador !" 

With  this  Bonito  hastily  arose  and  made  his  way  to  the  stairs 
where  Ducio  had  been  sitting.  The  latter  had  debated  the  best 
course  to  pursue,  and  while  Bonito  was  making  his  last  excited 
remarks,  he  had  pulled  off  his  heavy  boots  with  the  intention  of 
stealing  past  Bonito  and  making  his  exit  ahead  of  the  jailer,  and  if 
attacked  the  steel-clad  heels  of  his  boots  would  constitute  a  weapon 
of  defense.  Bonito's  movements,  however,  disarranged  his  plans,  and 
he  crouched  in  the  corner  at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  to  avoid  being 


wn 

; 


GUY  KAY  MOM  D.  271 

discovered.  The  old  jailer  was  so  intent  upon  his  one  purpose,  and 
so  blinded  by  the  deepening  darkness  as  he  moved  from  the  light, 
that  he  failed  to  observe  the  Creole  and  slowly  mounted  the  stair, 
until  he  could  feel  of  the  stone  overhead,  against  which  Ducio  had 
pushed  so  hard  when  he  first  tried  to  escape.  Satisfied,  but  still 
more  deeply  mystified  by  the  result  of  his  investigation,  Bonito  had 
reached  the  last  step  in  his  descent,  when  Ducio  dealt  him  a  score  of 
blows  on  the  head  with  his  ponderous  bootheel,  causing  him  to  fall 
insensible  to  the  floor. 

Ducio  hurriedly  examined  his  victim  with  the  aid  of  the  light, 
and  then  proceeding  to  the  chest,  he  rapidly  transferred  to  his  pockets 
as  many  doubloons  as  he  could  carry  in  them,  and  seizing  a  bag  of 
gold  he  was  turning  to  leave  when  he  espied  the  paper  which  he 
had  observed  to  fall  from  the  jailor's  hand.  He  picked  it  up  and 
thrust  it  in  his  pocket.  With  rapid  strides  he  soon  gained  the  top 
of  the  stair  leading  to  the  hall.  Here  he  was  at  a  loss  for  a  moment 
what  to  do,  as  the  trap  refused  to  yield  to  his  push;  but  the  discovery 
of  a  hair  cord,  similar  to  the  one  he  had  observed  on  the  lounge, 
solved  the  problem,  for,  pulling  it,  the  trap  lifted,  and  Ducio  was  soon 
in  the  hall. 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

The  morning  wore  on  after  Jose's  fruitlessly  made  efforts  to  get 
the  attention  of  the  jailer,  by  repeated  raps  and  loud  calls,  and  he 
began  to  wonder  why  Bonito  had  not  made  some  provision  for  their 
morning  meal.  Guy,  who  had  not  been  much  exercised  by  the  cir- 
cumstance, had  also  remarked  the  unusual  neglect  on  the  part  of 
the  fussy  master  of  the  carcel.  He  had  beguiled  the  time  in  invoking 
the  superstition  of  his  fellow  prisoner,  by  commenting  on  his  dream 
and  leading  the  Aztec  into  involuntary  interpretations  of  its  several 
features.  Jose  placed  everything,  not  momentarily  accountable,  in 
the  category  of  the  supernatural  and  attributed  to  some  saint  the 
responsibility  for  the  mental  or  physical  status  quo  that  seemed  to 
defy  solution. 

"I  wish  that  I  could  dream  of  gold,  senor.  It  brings  luck  to 
dieam  of  money." 

"Not  in  my  case,  Jose.    Am  I  not  in  prison?" 

For  the  moment,  yes;  but  your  luck  will  turn.     See  how  easily 
vou  won  the  money  at  the  Cabeza  de  Toro.    You  will  be  a  rich  man, 

r.     The  good  St.  Anthony  will  bring  you  many  blessings." 
To  a  heretic?     Jose,  I  am  not  even  a  Christian." 


272  GUY  KAYMOND. 

"All  the  more  proof  of  your  luck,  for  any  of  the  saints  could 
bring  evil  to  you  for  your  unbelief,  and  yet  you  live  on,  win  money 
as  easily  as  drawing  your  breath,  and  everybody  likes  you." 

"Is  it  not  unlucky  to  dream  of  human  skulls  and  of  such  dis- 
agreeable places  as  caverns,  where  the  damp  air  is  heavy  with  the 
noisome  odors  that  are  quite  as  deadly  to  human  life  as  the  venom 
of  the  reptiles  which  infest  the  crevices  and  fissures  of  their  jagged 
walls?  My  dream  is  so  impressed  upon  my  memory  that  all  the 
horrid  details  of  the  grim  picture  which  fancy  drew,  with  hand  un- 
steadied  by  the  rest  of  reason,  is  as  plain  to  me  as  if  in  truth  I 
had  walked  the  cavern  and  felt  the  mould  yielding  beneath  my  feet, 
the  webs  of  ages  assail  my  cheek,  while  hissing  serpents,  darting 
tongues  of  hate  retreated  to  inner  recesses  of  their  dens." 

"That  was  a  vision  of  hell,  senor.  Saint  Teresa  saw  as  much 
when  the  good  God  permitted  her  to  go  in  person  to  the  horrid  place.. 
Father  Ignacio  read  about  it  at  spiritual  reading  in  the  camp  before 
the  one  in  which  you  joined  us  on  the  San  Geronimo." 

"Did  Saint  Teresa  have  to  raise  a  stone,  as  I  did  in  my  dream, 
to  effect  an  entrance?" 

"Indeed,  no.  She  was  transported  to  the  entrance,  and  read  the 
sign  over  the  gate.  Everything  opened  before  her  approach/ 

"Your  saint  then  must  have  been  able  to  settle  a  disputed  question ; 
to  locate  the  place  of  future  torment." 

"She  was,  senor.     The  good  father  read  from  the  same  book  thj 
hell  is  in  the  center  of  the  earth." 

"That  theory,  Jose,  would  have  intensely  amused  Laplace." 

"Was  he  a  friend  of  Senor  Eaymond?" 

"Not  even  an  acquaintance.     He  was  a  great  man,  Jose,  who  did 
not  believe   in  the  creation,   as  the  Bible   details   it.     He  was  tl 
originator  of  the  Nebular  Hypothesis." 

"And  what  is  that,  senor?" 

"That  the   earth   grew   through   untold   millions   of   years   froi 
little  atoms,  which  formed  first  around  the  minutest  nucleus,  until 
it  has  reached  its  present  proportions.     That  it  was  long  a  heated 
body,  but  gradually  cooled,  until  it  was  capable  of  producing  vege- 
tation and  living  creatures." 

"It  must  have  cooled  first  on  the  outside,  senor." 

"Quite  correct,  Jose." 

"Then  Saint  Teresa  was  right.     The  center  is  still  a  place  of  fii 
where  the  good  God  sends  all  heretics." 

"You  are  a  reasoner;  at  least  on  the  question  of  location,  bi 
why  should  not  bad  Catholics  be  sent  to  the  same  place?" 


: 

lid 

: 


GUY  KAYMOND.  273 

"All  Catholics  have  a  chance,  senor,  but  heretics  burn  forever." 

"A.  charitable  view,  certainly." 

"Senor,  your  dream  has  set  me  to  thinking.  There  is  a  legend 
that  the  padres  once  used  this  carcel  for  religious  purposes  and,  while 
so  using  it,  caused  a  vault  to  be  dug  that  communciated  from  the 
colls  to  the  rooms  across  the  court.  I  was  pretty  drunk,  senor,  when 
thoy  brought  me  here,  quite  drunk,  for  which  my  confessor  will  give 
me  a  charity  pennance,  with  a  dozen  or  two  Aves  and  Confiteors,  no 
doubt;  but  I  was  not  too  drunk  to  hear  words  and  voices.  Between 
my  confused  mass  of  visions  and  ideas  and  the  real  surroundings  it 
was  hard  to  discriminate,  which  is  doubtless  owing  to  the  villainous 
quality  of  the  mescal,  senor,  which  has  become  worse  and  worse  since 
those  Gringo-Tejanos  have  kept  out  a  fresh  supply.  These  vinoteria 
men  have  had  to  make  the  stuff  stretch,  and  have  been  most  unfor- 
tunate in  selecting  their  material  for  adulteration.  But  I  remember 
ilia;  I  heard  a  voice,  fine  and  small,  that  seemed  to  penetrate  from 
the  rocky  floor:  and  then  a  tapping,  as  if  the  owner  of  the  voice 
was  tapping  for  my  a  I  tout  ion.  But  with  my  willingness  to  answer 
came  curious  shapes  and  grinning  spectres,  whose  shadowy  preesnce 
clouded  my  reas<m  and  made  mo  powerless  to  separate  the  real  from 
tbe  unreal.  Such  villainous  mescal  P 

"It  was  your  delirium.  Jose.  You  were  too  drunk  to  dream  and 
evidently  no  voice  could  come  from  beneath  these  rocks." 

"But  one's  wits  are  sharpened  by  mescal  and  a  drunken  man  is 
more  apt  to  speak  his  true  thoughts.  Delirium  leaves  no  impression 
upon  the  memory." 

"You  are  a  born  philosopher." 

"Plied e  ser,  senor  ;  but  el  padre  Ignacio  has  failed  to  discover 
it.  As  I  was  going  to  say,  the  voice  and  the  noise  might  not  have 
co mo  from  below,  but  I  certainly  heard  them.  Your  dream  of  a 
viiiill  and  tlio  siono  you  removed  to  get  admittance,  put  together 
with  my  experience,  (-a used  me  to  think  of  the  place  beneath  this 
prison.  That  square  stone,  senor,  may  be  the  cover  wbich  conceals 
Ihe  entrance.  You  see  it  is  different  and  larger  than  all  the  rest." 

"True,  but  was  there  an  entrance  from  this  cell?" 

"More  than  probable.  This  is  the  first  to  open  on  the  court,  and 
as  the  object  must  have  been  to  connect  the  cells  with  the  rooms 
it\  less  digging  would  be  necessary  to  reach  the  first  cell." 

"A  practical  conclusion,  I  must  confess;  but  what  puzzles  me 
is  (o  divine  the  utility  of  Ibis  underground  passageway." 

"II.  is  OIK-  of  |he  mysf cries  thai  are  buried  with  the  first  fathers 
who  ramo  to  convert  the  Indians.  They  were  a  tough  set  to  manage, 


according  to  the  records,  and  the  padres  had  to  use  many  metho 
to  bring  them  to  the  faith.  They  put  the  vault  to  good  use,  seno 
or  they  would  not  have  made  it." 

"Jose,  you  have  excited  my  curiosity.     We  must  lift  this  ston 
and  see  if  there  is  anything  under  it  besides  solid  earth." 

"That  is  not  possible  senor,  with  our  fingers  alone  to  work  with 
and  then  I  have  a  dread  that  tells  me  no  good  will  be  coming  to 
for  trying  to  pry  into  the  secrets  of  the  holy  dead." 

"Having  none  of  your  dread  or  superstitions  to  deter  me,  1  wil 
while  away  the  dulls  hours  of  this  confinement  by  picking  around 
this  stone,  even  at  the  risk  of  ruining  this  pretty  knife,"  said  Guy, 
rising  from  his  recumbent  position  and  drawing  forth  a  handsome 
dagger  from  the  inner  side  of  his  jacket. 

"From  the  monte  pio's/'  said  Jose,  eyeing  the  weapon. 

"Yes,  from  the  monte  pio's,  and  he  charged  me  a  pretty  price 
for  it." 

Guy  with  his  usual  determination  knelt  at  once  upon  the  damp 
stone  floor  and  introducing  the  knife  into  the  dirt-filled  spaces 
parting  the  square  flag  from  the  irregular  and  smaller  fellows  that 
surrounded  it,  he  began  to  clean  them  out,  in  order  to  ascertain  the 
thickness  of  the  stone,  and  to  enable  him  to  get  if  possible  a  purchase 
to  force  it  from  position.  He  worked  away  steadily  and  patiently 
watched  by  the  major  domo  with  a  good  deal  of  interest.  The  latt 
would  occasionally  utter  an  admonition  in  regard  to  the  temerity 
the  young  American  in  endeavoring  to  probe  mysteries  which  mu 
evoke  the  indignation  of  the  sacred  shades  that  linger  amid  t 
haunts,  once  the  scenes  of  their  labors  in  the  flesh. 

The  work  was  necessarily  slow  and  but  for  the  gratification  su 
plied  by   occupation   that   is   ever   a  boon  to   a   prisoner,   he   woul 
have  ceased  the  almost  hopeless  attempt  before  the  lapse  of  an  hour. 
Noon  had  come  and  no  jailer  had  made  his  appearance.     Guy  phil 
phized  and  worked  on,  while  his  more  animal  companion  had  sever 
times  dozed  off  into  a  restless  slumber,  with  occasional  awakenin 
and  maledictions  upon  the  head  of  the  tardy  Bonito. 

At  length  the  worker  was  rewarded  by  the  discovery  that  h 
could  raise  a  stone,  next  to  the  flag,  under  which  was  supposed  to  li 
the  mystery.  Its  displacement  gave  the  required  purchase  on  on< 
sido  of  the  flag,  and  by  diligent  work,  he  soon  had  a  place  in  which 
to  insert  each  hand  under  ilic  lower  face  of  the  latter.  He  looked 
at  the  Mexican,  with  the  idea  to  ask  his  assistance,  but  that  worthy 
was  breathing  heavily  in  slnmher;  then  summoning  all  his  resolu 
tion  he  stooped,  and  placing  his  hands  under  its  edge,  the  hea 


iu- 

" 


GUY  RAYMOND.  275 

stone  moved  under  his  muscular  grasp  and  in  another  moment  it 
was  edge  up,  disclosing  to  the  startled  Guy  an  aperture  about  twenty 
four  inches  square,  down  which  nothing-  greeted  his  eye  but  two  or 
three  steps  emerging  from  the  inky  darkness  of  the  lower  depth. 

Guy's  first  thought  was  to  awaken  Jose;  but  he  reconsidered  the 
intention  the  next  moment.  Balancing  the  stone  in  its  position,  he 
lighted  the  bit  of  candle  left  from  the  night  before  and  cautiously 
commenced  the  descent  of  the  stairs.  A  slight  tremor  passed  through 
his  frame  as  the  damp  air  very  sensibly  asserted  itself,  and  sug- 
gested a  long  deserted  apartment,  perhaps  unused  by  any  then  living 
beings  and,  from  the  major  domo's  standpoint,  a,  resort  for  the 
ghosts  of  the  good  padres  who  had  constructed  it.  The  miserable 
light  but  faintly  revealed  the  outlines  of  the  grimy  walls  as  the 
adventurer  moved  slowly  over  the  flags.  His  foot  encountered  some- 
thing soft,  when,  stooping  down,  he  beheld  the  fat  form  of  a  man 
stretched  upon  the  floor.  The  light  was  placed  close  to  the  face 
and  Guy  was  not  mistaken  in  recognizing  the  features  of  Bonito. 
The  prostrate  man  was  breathing  heavily,  but  made  no  movement 
upon  being  touched  or  pinched. 

"What  mystery  can  this  be?"  thought  Guy.  "This  accounts  for 
Bonito's  absence." 

His  eyes  becoming  more  accustomed  to  the  darkness  he  beheld 
1  ie  chest  a  little  further  on,  and  being  curious  to  know  where  the 
other  entrance  could  be,  he  proceeded  towards  the  further  end.  But 
the  chest  did  not  fail  to  arrest  him.  Its  open  lid  disclosed  the 
precious  contents,  and  Guy  stood  amazed,  as  he  bent  forward  and 
realized  the  magnitude  of  the  find.  But  he  was  not  so  entranced  as 
was  Ducio  in  his  discovery  as  to  lose  the  idea,  paramount  but  a 
moment  before,  of  solving  the  mystery  of  Bonito's  presence  and 
present  condition.  He  mechanically  closed  the  chest  and  passed 
to  the  further  end  of  the  vault.  Here  the  discovery  of  the  steps 
was  scarcely  made  before  he  began  to  ascend,  after  placing  his  light 
on  the  floor,  and  was  in  a  moment  within  reach  of  the  obstruction 
that  barred  his  exit.  A  hard  push,  however,  caused  the  barrier  to 
move,  and  the  astonished  Guy  found  himself  in  the  well  known 
hall  of  the  jailer's  domicil.  He  took  in  the  ingenuous  disposition 
of  the  lounge.,  arranged  to  evade  suspicion  of  what  existed  beneath, 
but  expended  only  a  moment  in  inspecting  the  trap.  Familiar  with 
tin1  rooms,  he  hastened  to  the  ;i|»arf incut  where  Bonito  slept  and 
where  were  gathered  the  odds  and  ends  peculiarly  his  own.  Here  he 
opened  a  cupboard  and  taking  a  small  earthen  jug  from  the  shelf 
IK-  hastily  returned  to  the  hall  and  disappeared  down  the  vault  steps, 


276  GUY  RAYMOND. 


nearly 


closing  the  trap  behind  him.  The  little  flame  of  the  candle  nearly 
went  out  in  his  haste  to  raise  it  and  hurry  on  to  where  Bonito  lay. 
A  groan  from  the  latter  indicated  to  Guy  that  the  old  jailer  was  on 
the  way  to  consciousness.  But  the  next  movements  of  Guy  indicated 
he  had  matured  within  the  short  time  a  methodical  mode  of  pro- 
cedure, calculated  to  cause  his  discovery  to  include,  with  rescue  of 
the  jailer,  a  preservation  of  the  secret  of  the  hiding  place  of  his 
pesos  and  doubloons,  doubtless  accumulated  by  steadfast  saving  of 
reals  throughout  years  of  self-denial.  Placing  the  jug  and  candle  on 
the  stool,  which  he  moved  from  near  the  chest  to  the  side  of  Bonito, 
Guy  hastened  back  to  the  cell.  Jose  was  still  snoring  as  when  he 
had  left  him.  Seizing  the  edges  of  the  heavy  stone  he  slowly  lowered 
it  until,  resting  it  on  his  shoulders,  it  came  down  at  last  into  the 
exact  place  from  which  he  had  so  lately  raised  it.  His  efforts  were 
now  made  to  resuscitate  the  jailer. 

"This  mescal  will  revive  him,"  thought  Guy,  pouring  some  of  the 
contents  of  the  jug  into  Bonito's  mouth,  which  he  forced  open  with 
his  thumb  and  finger. 

Bonito  strangled  so  from  the  liquor  that  his  restorer  began  to 
fear  he  had  administered  a  fatal  dose;  but  the  exertion  which  it 
caused  created  a  reaction  highly  favorable,  for  the  patient  was  soon 
in  a  sitting-  position,  glaring  wildly  at  the  other. 

"Why  did  you  hit  me  so  hard  on  my  head?"  were  the  first  words 
succeeding  consciousness. 

"You  are  wrong,  Bonito.  I  found  you  as  you  were,  and  only  for 
this  mescal  you  would  not  now  be  able  to  talk." 

"Is  it  you,  senor?    I  thought  it  was  the  other,  the  toreador,  who 
had  found  the  passage  from  the  cell,  who  robbed   and  beat  me  01 
the  head  until  I  was  like  one  dead.     Oh,  how  could  you  do  it?" 

"It  was  not  I,  Bonito.     The  fellow  you  call  toreador  is  safe  in 
his  cell.     I  discovered  this  place  by  accident  and  just  in  time  to 
serve  you.     I  have  found  my  way  to  your  room,  procured  this  jug 
from  your  own  cupboard  and  brought  it  here  to  bring  you  back 
your  senses." 

"And  my  secret!     Oh,  Dios!     Dios!" 

Safe  with  me,  amigo.     I  have  discovered  all,  but  the  passage 
the  cell  is  closed  and  none  shares  my  discovery." 

"But  he  who  struck  me?    What  of  him?    He  has  robbed  me  an< 
escaped.     Oh!     Oh!     Oh!" 

"No,  Bonito.  All  seems  safe.  The  chest  is  there,  if  that  be  what 
you  mean.  It  is  there  and  closed." 

"And  empty.     Dios!     Dios!" 


GUY  BAYMOND.  277 

"Come  let  me  help  you  up.    You  can  inspect  your  chest  and " 

"Know  my  ruin.     Dios  !     Dios !" 

The  .old  fellow  was  still  dazed  from  the  effects  of  the  blows,  but 
staggered  to  the  chest,  assisted  by  the  strong  arm  of  the  otlicr.  H<> 
stooped  to  raise  the  lid,  and  hesitated,  looking  at  Guy  with  no 
uncertain  look,  expressive  of  his  reluctance  to  let  another  eye  glnn<r 
upon  the  contents.  Guy  interpreted  its  moaning  and  made  an  excuse 
to  go  to  the  steps  to  see  if  he  had  properly  replaced  the  stone. 

The  miser  raised  the  lid  and  throwing  up  his  hands,  muttered 
in  subdued  anguish: 

"The  bag  that  held  the  brightest  doubloons — gone!  Oh,  Dios! 
Fifteen  hundred  and  one  !  Fifteen  hundred  and  one !  Gone — gone !" 

The  lid  went  down  with  a  bang.  Bonito  drew  the  key  and  placed 
it  in  his  pocket. 

The  time  had  now  arrived  to  leave  the  vault,  as  both  were  im- 
patient to  be  out  of  it.  Bonito  was  highly  exercised  to  think  that 
some  one  else  wa»  with  him  in  his  hiding  place,  while  Guy  was 
anxious  to  get  out  for  no  very  definite  reasons,  unless  it  was  that 
he  had  fasted  since  the  evening  previous.  The  jailer  had  so  far 
recovered  his  strength  as  to  crawl  up  unassisted  in  advance  of  Guy 
and  to  open  the  trap,  which  he  was  gratified  to  think  the  other  did 
not  know  how  to  do. 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

?he  enthusiasm  prevailing  in  the  city,  by  reason  of  the  presence 
of  the  toreadors,  was  not  confined  to  the  masses,  but  found  a  lodge- 
ment in  breasts  of  the  notables,  civic  and  military,  as  well  as  the 
religious.  The  mere  procession  through  the  streets  of  the  favorites, 
who  were  to  give  them  diversion  of  a  character  second  to  none  to  be 
obtained  from  a  whole  calendar  of  fiestas,  aroused  the  joys  of  antici- 
pation that  found  stimulation  in  the  contemplation  of  the  actors, 
their  fantastic  dress  and  peculiar  antics.  The  grated  windows  of 
the  residences  framed  faces  of  senoritas,  fair  or  dusky  as  the  Cauca- 
sian or  aboriginal  blood  predominated,  while  in  one  quarter  the 
balcony  of  a  more  pretentious  dwelling  held  a  bevy  of  ladies,  all 
intent  upon  the  one  common  purpose,  animating  the  population. 

To  this  latter  desirable  position  had  repaired  several  persons 
who  were  friends  of  the  family  of  Don  Fermin  Casiano,  ftie  occupants 
and  owners  of  flic  property,  and  among  them  was  Beatrice  Navarro. 
Th"  I;I!!<T*S  ('diK'tition  had,  to  a  degree,  eradicated  Mexican  tastes, 
and  caused  her  ideas  of  the  proprieties t to  assimilate  to  the  American 


278  GUY  RAYMOND. 

standard.  But  on  this  particular  day  Beatrice  felt  the  need  of 
some  diversion  that  would  chase  away  an  oppression  more  unen- 
durable than  positive  pain,  and  more  unwelcome  than  any  shock  the 
most  delicate  sense  of  propriety  could  sustain.  Her  communication 
to  Guy  had  remained  unanswered,  although  she  had  assurances  of 
its  delivery,  and  she  found  herself  feverish  from  an  excitement  inci- 
dent to  disappointment  and  doubt  which,  like  portentous  clouds,  had 
suddenly  risen  to  obscure  the  horizon  of  a  new  found  happiness. 
She  tried  to  console  herself  by  the  reflection  that  he  was  not  worthy 
of  her  love,  if  he  were  incapable  of  appreciating  her  explanation 
of  the  unfortunate  interview  with  her  father;  but  excuses  for  him 
would  assert  themselves  at  every  turn  as  the  subject  was  again  and 
again  revolved  in  her  mind.  She  felt^that  an  outing  would  do  her 
good  and  resolved  to  repair  to  Don  Fermin's  to  see  the  crowd  and 
the  toreadors,  a  diversion  that  would  perhaps  lead  her  from  her 
mental  depression.  And  so  it  proved;  for  even  before  the  gay  horse- 
men made  their  appearance,  the  simple  remarks  of  the  senoritas, 
chatting  and  tittering  like  so  many  magpies,  amused  her  to  a  degree 
and  banished  the  last  vestige  of  the  feeling  which  had  brought  her 
from  home.  The  toreadors  paid  special  attention  to  the  balcony 
with  its  throng  of  beauties,  and  Beatrice  looked  with  increased 
interest  as  one  of  the  riders  gave  her  an  earnest  salutation  that 
seemed  strangely  familiar.  She  gazed  after  the  graceful  cavalier 
far  up  the  street  until  she  saw  him  dismount  and  enter  a  house, 
accompanied  by  another  familiar  form,  she  could  not  be  mistaken, 
by  Jose,  the  major  domo. 

Across   the   street   two   familiar   female   figures,   escorted   by 
officer,  next  attracted  her  attention.     A   smile  of  recognition   from 
Linda  was  followed  by  a  signal  to  ascend.     The  latter  drew  Josef; 
attention   to  the  invitation.     The   Senorita   De   la   Torre   flushed 
little  on  beholding  Beatrice  and  gave  a  look  of  inquiry  toNthe  li 
officer,  who  was  no  other  than  Pedro,  the  lieutenant  of  the  staff. 

"Our  house  is  near  at  hand,"  said  Josefa.     "Why  join  that  tit 
ing  crowd?" 

"The  more  the  merrier,  senorita,"  suggested  the  lieutenant.    "A 
see!     Don  Fermin  is  calling  to  us." 

Josefa  reluctantly  allowed  herself  to  be  conducted  to  the  balco 
The  greeting,  between  herself  and  Beatrice  accorded  with  the  strained 
relations   which   had   so   recently   intervened   to   further   mark   the! 
dissimilarity  in  character. 

Linda,  warm  and  true  in  her  /nature,  embraced   her  friend  a 
nestled  close  by  her  side. 


led 

: 


GUY  RAYMOND.  279 

"I  heard  you  were  here,  Beatrice.    But  the  toreadors  have  passed." 

"But  will  return  this  way." 

"Do  you  know  the  lieutenant?" 

"Yes."     Beatrice  turned  and  accorded  him  a  recognition. 

The  officer  doffed  his  cap  and  extended  his  hand  in  a  salute. 

"The  Senoriia  Navarro  had  an  excellent  view  of  the  toreadors 
from  this  portico,"  he  said,  by  way  of  prefacing  a  conversation. 

"Don  Fermin  very  thoughtfully  invited  me.  You  know  he  is 
very  enthusiastic  over  such  exhibitions,  and  these  toreadors  are  said 
to  In1  acquaintances  of  his." 

"Say  you  so  ?  Ah !  Yes.  One  of  them,  the  masquerader,  he 
doubtless  knows." 

"But  all  are  masqueraders,  are  they  not,  in  their  assumed  char- 
acters." 

"The  senorita  is  correct,  but  one  of  the  toreadors  is  a  San  An- 
tonian,  and  wears  his  present  garb  to  conceal  his  identity.  He  will 
be  a  military  prisoner  before  he  will  have  finished  his  ride." 

Beatrice  at  once  recalled  the  salutation  she  had  received  from  the 
graceful  rider  and  strove  vainly  to  place  him  among  her  acquaintances 
of  the  city.  Forewarned  of  the  intention  to  arrest,  she  gave  no 
indication  of  the  thoughts  which  entered  her  mind.  Her  next  words 
were  intended  to  draw  the  name  of  the  masquerader  from  the  lieuten- 
ant's lips. 

"Is  it  a  crime  to  play  toreador?" 

"If  the  play  be  made  to  conceal  the  presence  of  a  spy." 

The  officer's  words  left  no  doubt  in  Beatrice's  mind  that  the  spy 
was  liuiz,  for  she  now  recalled  the  form  and  bearing  of  the  cavalier 
who  had  saluted  her,  and  was  satisfied  that  he  was  no  other  than 
her  impulsive  friend,  who  had  gone  over  to  the  Texans.  Josefa, 
who  had  heard  the  conversation,  entertained  the  same  suspicion, 
but,  not  having  seen  the  toreadors,  it  remained  a  suspicion,  while 
she  wavered  between  two  sensations,  one  a  vengeful  hope  thai  he  be 
captured,  the  other  a  tender  recollection  of  their  past  intercourse. 

"There  will  be  one  other  arrest  made  today  which  may  surprise. 
you  ladies,  if  indeed  it  does  not  cause  you  much  regret,"  continued 
the  lieutenant,  in  a  tone  of  voice  indicating  the  satisfaction  that  such 
a  proceeding  would  all'ord  him. 

•'Cause  me  regret?"  asked  Josefa. 

'•And  me?"  queried  Beatrice  as  the  officer  gave  her  a  meaning 
look. 

"Roth   of  you/'   he   replied. 

"I)on't.  keep  them   wondering,  senor,"  said  Linda.     "Who  is  it?" 


rUY  RAYMOND. 

".It  is  no  secret,  senorita    mia.     It  is  the  young  American  w 
is  staying  with  Father  Ignacio." 

"Is  he,  too,  a  spy?"  demanded  Josef  a,  in  a  sarcastic  tone. 

"He  may  be;  but  his  arrest  will  hp  for  murder." 

Beatrice  had  hoard,  but  could  command  no  voice  for  questio 
nor  an  expression  to  conceal  interest  and  anxiety.  She  therefore 
remained  silent  with  averted  face  but  with  eager  ears  to  catch  every 
word.  Josef  a  noticed  her  manner  and  divined  her  solicitude.  It 
afforded  an  opportunity  to  a  von  go  herself  on  her  rival  and  a  demoni- 
acal feeling  at  once  possessed  her. 

"Is  his  name  Raymond  ?"  she  asked,  glancing  her  black,  fiery  eyes 
alternately  from  the  officer  to  Beatrice. 

"Raymond.  You  are  quite  correct,  senorita.  He  has  been  a 
frequent  caller  at  your  house." 

"And  mine,  too,"  said  Linda.  "He  is  a  noble  fellow  and  as 
in  IK  vent  of  murder  as  myself." 

"Can   you  tell  us,  senor,  who   was  his  victim?" 

"One  Vasquez;  a  low  fellow  who  was  a  witness  against  this 
American  for  the  murder  of  another  Vasquez,  the  witness'  brother." 

"A  regular  murderer!"  exclaimed  Josefa. 

"Josef a !"  remonstrated  Linda.  "It  can  only  be  suspicion.  A 
thousand-  witnesses  could  not  change  my  faith  in  Senor  Raymond'! 
honor."  \ 

"De   veras!"   exclaimed   the   lieutenant.     "You   are   an   eloque 
champion  of  this  enemy  of  Mexicans." 

"Then  his  arrest  is  to  be  made  on  the  score  of  enmity  to  Mexico, 
and  the  charge  of  murder  is  but  a  convenient  subterfuge  to  get  him 
into  custody,"  said  Beatrice,  AV!IO  had   in   a  measure  regained 
equanimity. 

"I  thought  the  Senorita  Navarro  would  soon  come  to  the  defe: 
of   this  American  paragon.     In  fact,  it  was  my  belief  that  he 
made  the  greater  impression  on  her,  for  rumor  has  been  busy 

"Rumor  that  deals  in  unmanly  twaddle  would  never  have  had 
an  origin  were  it  not  for  tongues   that  wag  obedient  to   brainl( 
heads,"  interrupted  Beatrice.     "Have  a  care,  senor,  that  this  rui 
is  not  traceable  to  yourself." 

"Mil  jL'Tacias,  senorita,  for  the  compliment,"  said  the  officer  wit 
a  confused  giggle. 

"Will  Srnor  Raymond  be  sent  to  the  carcel,"  asked  Linda. 

"Doubtless.     But  with  such  a.  friend  in  the  person  of  the  jail( 
daughter   i!    would,   perhaps,  he  best  to   confine   him   elsewhere." 
'No  Tear  of  me,  senor.     My  father  is  a  faithful  jailer  and 


A 

I 

ml 

him 

I 


"XT, 


GUY  RAYMOND.  281 

only  way  in  which  I  could  show  friendship  for  a  prisoner  would  be 
in  supplying  some  little  things  to  relieve  the  discomforts  of  a  prison 
cell." 

"A  murderer  should  have  no  comforts.  The  proofs  against  this 
American  are  positive,  and  beyond  every  doubt  he  will  be  shot  before 
many  days  for  the  murder  of  the  Yasquez  brothers." 

"The  court  has  evidently  prejudged  the  case  in  accordance  with 
Mexican  justice/'  said  Beatrice. 

"Then  it  is  true,  senorita,  that  your  American  schooling  has 
blotted  out  all  love  for  your  own  race." 

"On  the  contrary,  my  education  has  caused  a  revelation  of  the 
deficiencies  which  exist  in  Mexican  ethics,  and  I  would  lift  our 
people  from  a  depth  of  ignorance  and  superstition  that  is  a  barrier 
to  advancement.  Mexican  justice  is  at  best  a  farce  and  its  juris- 
prudence an  anomaly." 

"This  is  rank  treason.  I  hope,  senorita,  that  these  are  not  the 
sentiments  of  your  father." 

"If  you  would  be  posted,  senor,  I  refer  you  to  Don  Juan,"  said 
Beatrice  angrily.  Then  turning  away,  she  indicated  by  her  manner 
that  their  conversation  must  end. 

Josefa's  eyes  sparkled  with  excitement  and  her  whole  expression 
evinced  a  morbid  satisfaction  at  the  perturbation  of  Beatrice.  She 
engaged  the  lieutenant  in  conversation  on  subjects  of  town  news 
and  scandals,  knowing  that  such  topics  were  the  more  acceptable 
to  his  shallow  mind.  She  flattered  him  by  commenting  on  the  bril- 
liancy of  his  new  uniform  and  impressing  him  with  the  idea  of  the 
high  importance  she  attached  to  his  position  on  the  staff.  By  her 
arts  she  soon  controlled  the  will  of  her  companion  and  ended  by 
drawing  from  him  the  information  that  Manuel  Ruiz  was  the  name 
of  the  toreador  to  be  arrested. 

When  the  sightseers  left  Don  Fermin's  balcony  Linda  accom- 
p;  nied  Beatrice  to  her  home,  while  Josef  a  secured  the  escort  of  the 
lieutenant,  who  had  been  completely  ensnared  by  her  wiles.  He  left 
lif-r  at  her  door,  with  assurances  of  his  lasting  allegiance. 

Josefa's  expression  was  one  of  contempt  as  she  closed  the  door 
and  muttered: 

"The  vain  little  monkey!  There  is  more  of  the  man  in  Ruiz's 
little  finger  than  in  his  whole  shrivelled  anatomy." 

She  proceeded  at  once  to  her  own  room,  full  of  the  thought  of 
the  danger  attending  Ruiz's  presence  in  the  city  and  wavering  be- 
tween impressions,  the  one  of  gratified  revenge,  the  other  of  appre- 
hension lest  the  fate  of  the  spy  once  consummated  would  cause  a 


282  GUY  RAYMOND. 


lothing 


Her,  in 


reaction  productive  of  ceaseless  remorse  that  she  had  clone  nothing 
to  avert  the  catastrophe. 

With  these  reflections  she  descended  to  the  sitting  room,  where, 
to  her  astonishment,  she  beheld  the  object  of  her  thoughts  standing 
ready  to  receive  her.  Ruiz  smiled  broadly  at  her  startled  manner,  in 
which  were  represented  a  variety  of  emotions. 

"What!    You  here?" 

"And  at  your  mercy." 

"My  mercy?" 

"Yours.  I  am  hunted  by  the  military  and  if  captured  will  be 
convicted  as  a  spy." 

"Why  did  you  seek  this  house  as  an  asylum?  Has  your  treat- 
ment of  at  least  one  of  its  inmates  laid  us  under  contribution  for 
gratitude?" 

"You  do  me  injustice,  Josefa,  in  alluding  to  our — 

"Return  not  to  that  subject,  Senor  Ruiz.  Your  perfidity  in  that 
instance  has  a  fit  sequel  in  your  treason  to  your  country." 

"I  am  not  a  traitor,  but  a  revolutionist." 

"A  distinction  very  questionable  in  your  case." 

"A  truce  to  politics,  Josefa.  This  badinage  wall  lead  to  a 
quarrel,  and  quarrelling  is  now  out  of  the  question.  I  am  here,  in 
some  danger,  and  ask  your  tolerance  if  not  your  hospitality  until 
the  darkness  will  permit  my  exit  unobserved  by  the  military  hounds 
on  my  trail.  You  can  accord  this  much  to  one  who  has  loved  you, 
who  loves  you  now,  despite  the  barrier  which  you  yourself  raised 
between  us.  But  for  your  own  act  there  would  not  be — 

"I    command   you   by   the   hope   you   have   of   escape   from 
vengeance  of  your  betrayed  country,  to  make  no  allusion  to  the 
Let  me  not  be  compelled  to  again  repeat  this  injunction." 

"As  you  will,  Josefa.     I  would  not  arouse  in  you  remorse." 

"You  mean  indignation." 

"I  would  not  disturb  you  by  any  unwelcome  emotion.  On 
contrary,  I  am  ready  to  renew  that  allegiance  once  so  happily  borne, 
if  its  renewal  could  restore  intact  in  your  bosom  the  passion  which 
was  half  my  existence." 

"A  traitor  to  talk  of  allegiance!" 

"Nay,  Josefa,  I  disclaim " 

"A  recreant,  appealing  to  a  passion  he  killed,  that  its  revival 
save  his  worthless  life !" 

"Josefa !     By   all   the   saints !     You  are  passing  the  bounds 
your  own  convictions.     You  will  regret  your  words." 

"Could  a  woman  of  spirit  say  less  ?    In  these  veins  courses  diffei 


GUY  RAYMOND.  283 

blood  from  that  which  pulsates  in  a  Navarro.  You  have  mistaken 
your  asylum,  or  have  yet  to  learn  the  character  of  Josefa  De  la 
Torre." ' 

"This  is  my  asylum  from  necessity.  It  was  the  nearest  at  hand 
after  becoming  aware  of  my  danger.  I  will  say  no  more,  as  it  but 
tends  to  irritate  you.  So  soon  as  night  comes  I  will  relieve  you  of 
my  presence.  My  enemies  may  recognize  me,  but  before  they  effect 
my  capture  some  of  them  will  precede  me  to  purgatory.  You  have 
called  me  traitor  and  recreant,  but  I  shall  never  believe  that  you 
doubt  my  courage." 

Ruiz  seated  himself  by  the  grated  window  and  leaned  his  head 
forward  in  deliberation.  Josefa  watched  him  for  a  moment,  then 
left  the  apartment  to  find  her  mother.  The  latter  noted  her  daugh- 
ter's excitement,  and  had  heard  the  tones  of  the  conversation  in  the 
sitting  room,  but  was  not  prepared  for  the  reversion  of  feeling  indi- 
cated by  Josefas'  next  words  addressed  to  her. 

"How  long  has  he  been  here?" 

"Since  one  o'clock." 

"Without  dinner?" 

"Without  dinner." 

"Then,  mother,  prepare  him  something  to  eat  and  take  it  to  him. 
He  will  leave  at  dark."  Then  aside  she  said :  "The  miscreant !  He 
should  be  made  to  suffer  more  than  the  pangs  of  hunger." 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

dz's  first  precaution  after  leaving  the  house  of  the  De  la  Torre's 
was  to  hunt  up  his  cousin,  the  chief  of  the  toreadors,  and  to  invoke 
his  aid  in  a  further  disguise  to  enable  him  to  escape  detection  from 
the  Argus-eyed  military.  Senor  Trevino  had  pitched  his  tent  on  the 
Alameda  and  himself  and  attendants  were  discussing  the  merits  of 
the  savory  contents  of  a  pot  that  swung  above  a  small  fire  burning 
close  to  the  base  of  one  of  the  tall  cottonwoods  that  lined  the  northern 
edge  of  the  avenue. 

"Ruiz  as  I  live!"  he  exclaimed,  as  Manuel,  emerging  from  the 
darkness,  laid  his  hand  softly  on  his  cousin's  shoulder. 

"N~o,  cousin  mine.  I  am  Jose,  until  more  propitious  times  will 
allow  me  to  change  my  identity  and  my  clothes.  Ruiz  is  doubtless 
languishing  in  the  carcel,  having  been  detected  in  his  masquerading 
as  a  toreador." 

"Es  verdad.     They  took  him  on  the  Plaza  de  Armas,  but  he  was 


284  GUY  EAYMOND. 

so  beastly  drunk  that  it  is  a  question  if  he  comprehended  their 
action." 

"He  was  not  then  discovered  to  be  the  major  domo?" 

"No.     They  thought  they  had  their  man." 

"Then  I  will  have  little  trouble  to  escape  arrest,  but  to  make 
surer,  you  must  use  your  skill  to  further  disguise  my  features." 

"With  all  my  heart;  but  join  us  in  our  supper.  The  night  is 
before  us  in  which  to  fully  transform  you  into  any  shape  you  desire." 

"Thanks  for  your  invitation,  but  the  Senora  De  la  Torre  has 
forestalled  you  by  giving  me  a  regular  feast,  not  a  half  hour  ago/' 

"Who  was  that  youth  who  came  up  just  behind  you?"  asked 
Trevino.  "He  paused  as  if  he  wished  to  speak." 

"I  did  not  notice  him,"  replied  Manuel. 

"Then  he  did  not  come  with  you?" 

"No.     I  was  alone." 

"He  certainly  followed  you.  His  eyes  were  upon  you  sharply 
and  while  I  was  expecting  him  to  speak  he  turned  down  the  Alameda." 

"Perhaps  a  spy/ 

"A  neatly  dressed  one." 

We  will  leave  Euiz  to  be  metamorphosed  into  a  shape  satisfactory 
to  himself  by  the  deft  hands  and  skilled  art  of  his  cousin,  and  relate 
the  proceedings  of  the  almost  demoralized  Ducio,  after  his  exit  from 
the  vault  where  he  had  left  the  jailer  for  dead. 

He  remained  in  the  hall  long  enough  to  transfer  the  treasure 
from  the  bag  to  the  several  pockets  of  his  clothing.  He  found  diffi- 
culty in  arranging  the  coins  so  that  they  would  not  disclose  their 
bulky  presence,  and  after  some  hesitation  he  repaired  to  the  jailer's 
apartment,  as  if  in  quest  of  some  means  to  better  conceal  his  boot}'. 
Seizing  something  hanging  above  the  bed,  and  which  proved  to  be 
one  of  Bonito's  shirts,  he  transferred  a  portion  of  the  gold  back  to 
the  sack  and  enveloped  it  in  the  ample  folds  of  the  garment,  fash- 
ioning it  into  as  neat  a  bundle  as  the  necessity  for  haste  would  -permit. 
The  exit  from  the  place  effected,  Ducio  found  that  his  apprehensions 
were  not  abated.  The  consciousness  of  guilt,  weighted  by  the  posses- 
sion of  gold  of  yet  unestimated  value,  increased  his  trepidation 
when,  finding  himself  in  the  street,  he  imagined  the  encountering 
eyes  of  people  were  reading  his  secret.  He  would  have  given  half 
his  gold  for  the  friendly  shield  of  darkness,  which  was  fully  an  hour 
and  a  half  distant.  Candelario's  door  was  the  first  refuge  that 
offered.  He  entered  the  place  and  finding  it  vacant,  seated  himself, 
pl.'iring  his  bundle  on  the  bench  next  to  the  wall.  Being  hungry, 
lie  called  for  a  supper,  and  during  the  course  of  the  meal  his  mind 


GUY  RAYMOND.  285 

was  full  of  his  recent  adventure.  Fortune  seemed  to  be  favoring  him ; 
yet  he  was  not  satisfied  with  his  luck.  It  brought  fears  with  its  gold. 
The  hidden  treasure  alluded  to  in  Mr.  Trigg's  revelation,  and  of 
which  the  mysterious  paper  was  supposed  to  be  the  index,  was  now 
a  secondary  consideration,  if  not  wholly  surrendered  as  an  attraction 
in  the  glowing  magnificence  of  the  fortune  in  the  vault.  But  he 
was  villain  enough  to  understand  the  necessity  of  acting  naturally 
in  the  pending  emergency  to  avoid  furnishing  grounds  for  suspicion. 
Therefore  he  tarried  in  the  restauranr  only  a  few  moments  after  his 
deliberate  consumption  of  the  repast.  On  his  exit  the  plaza  stretched 
before  him  with  but  few  pedestrians  other  than  several  rebosaed 
forms  on  their  way  to,  find  entering  the  side  portal  of  San  Fernando. 
Ducio,  quick  to  conceive,  bent  his  steps  to  the  church  and  entered, 
with  SPV(-TMI  females,  the  ever  open  door  of  the  edifice.  With  a 
purpose  now  well  defined  his  countenance  assumed  a  calm,  if  not 
sanctimonious,  expression  as  he  approached  the  fount  and  dipped 
his  finger  in  the  holy  water.  He  reverently  crossed  himself,  made 
rhe  genuflection,  and  knelt  upon  the  flags.  His  head  bent  forward 
in  mock  deyolion  as  mental  visions  of  gold,  the  vault  and  Bonito's 
Mien  form  presenter]  themselves  in  silent  panorama.  Here  he  resolved 
to  wait  his  turn  for  confession,  despite  the  pain  endured  from  the 
contact  of  ihe  hard  stone  floor  with  knees  so  unaccustomed  to  such 
experience.  • 

Night  fell  over  the  city  before  Ducio  was  seen  to  leave  the  church. 
The  darkness  was  sufficient  to  gratify  the  cravings  for  concealment 
of  even  greater  villainy  than  his.  The  gloom  that  overhung  the 
plaza  was  relieved  by  but  few  glimmers  from  the  houses;  the  monte 
pio's  shop  showing  the  most  pretentious  illumination.  Down  the 
O^lle  de  la  Carcel  the  lidit  from  the  doors  of  the  Cabeza  de  Toro 
spanned  the  street  and  v/as  reflected  from  the  opposite  walls,  dis- 
closing passersby  and  a  knot  of  men,  near  the  door,  the  latter 
assemblage  varying  in  size  as  fresh  arrivals  came  up  or  individuals 
by  twos  and  threes  entered  the  place. 

An  hour  later  the  crowd  of  frequenters  had  become  large  and 
continued  to  increase  as  the  night  wore  on.  The  quiet  Mexican 
character  of  the  assemblage  was  apparent  from  the  absence  of  boister- 
onsness  or  hilarity,  save  an  instance  of  drunkenness,  where  the  inebri- 
ate would  give  vent  to  an  occasional  shout,  followed  by  the  cry  of 
"Mneron  los  Tejanos." 

"Mescal  has  made  that  fellow  patriotic,"  said   a   bystander. 
ronder  it  is  that  there  are  not  more  patriots  of  his  sort  tonight. 


"wt 


19-r 


286  GUY  RAYMOND. 

for  the  vinoterias  have  been  well  patronized  during  the  day/' 
another. 

"One  of  the  toreadors  was  dead  drunk,  when  for  some  reason 
was  arrested  and  put  in  jail/' 

"He   was   only   playing  toreador/'   said    a   third.      "He   was 
other  than  Ruiz,  who  went  over  to  the  Texans." 

"Then  he  is  a  spy/'  said  a  youth,  whose  slight  figure  was  mould 
in  a  neat  suit,  set  off  by  a  scarlet  sash. 
"And  will  he  shot/'  said  the  first. 
The  latter  was  apparently  a  man  of  advanced  middle  age,  and 
wore  a  long  beard  and  mustache.     His  clothes  were  ill-fitting  and  he 
had  a  slight  stoop  that  he  occasionally  tried  to  correct  by  carrying 
back  his  shoulders. 

"You  are  quite  right.  Death  is  the  fate  of  spies,"  said  another, 
who  joined  the  party  just  in  time  to  learn  the  drift  of  the  conversa- 
tion. His  Spanish  was  indifferent,  and  as  he  moved  closer  to  the 
door  the  light  revealed  the  features  of  Ducio  Halfen. 

The  individual  with  the  long  beard  gazed  intently  at  the  Creole 
as  he  made  the  remark,  and  slightly  started  as  he  got  a  view  of  his 
face. 

"You  spoke  feelingly,  senor/'  he  said  to  Ducio.   "Perhaps  you 
have  a  grudge  against  this  fellow — this  spy — this — what's  his  name  ?" 
"Ruiz — Manuel  Ruiz,"  replied  Ducio. 
"An  enemy  of  yours,  perhaps." 
"No,  not  an  enemy.     I  know  little  of  him." 
"Then  how  did  you  know  so  much  of  his  arrest?" 
"I  heard  it  at  headquarters." 
"Then  Jose  was  correct,"  said  the  fellow  with  the  long  beard 
and  the  stoop,  in  an  undertone. 

The  two  entered  the  place  where  monte  was  being  dealt  to 
crowd  of  bettors.  The  youth  with  the  scarlet  sash  followed,  and  as 
he  came  under  the  rays  of  the  stronger  light  the  fellow  with  the 
long  heard  caught  his  eye,  then  took  in  his  whole  person  in  one 
searching  glance. 

"For  Dios!"  he  thought.     "Is  this  the  fellow  who  followed 
in  the  Alameda?" 

Ducio  had  come  for  no  fixed  purpose,  and  nearing  a  table 
loked  on  with  much  interest  at  the  progress  of  the  game.  The  other 
kept  near  to  him,  but  less  interested  in  monte,  he  scanned  the  faces 
of  the  crowd  without  indulging  in  speech.  Several  of  the  betto 
were  military  men,  and  among  them,  seated  at  one  end  of  the  tabl 


\JO      JUU 

.a  me  ?" 


)ne 

: 


• 


GUY  EAYMOND.  287 

was  the  little  lieutenant  of  the  staff.  Behind  ilie  dealer  was  the  well 
known  face  of  the  notary,  who  was  a  rare  visitor  to  the  locality.  He 
was  quietly  watching  the  varying  luck  of  the  players,  while  he  plied 
his  cigarette  with  an  evident  air  of  enjoyment. 

"You  look  like  you  wanted  to  bet,  senor,"  said  a  voice  close  to 
Ducio's  ear.  He  turned  and  saw  that  his  companion  with  the  long 
beard  had  addressed  him. 

"I  would  like  to  bet  and  have  been  watching  the  run  of  the  cards 
to  get  a  hang  of  the  game.' 

"Bet  on  the  seven  and  every  time  you  lose,  double  your  bet  on 
the  same  card,"  said  the  other. 

"I  will  try  your  method,  amigo.     The  seven,  you  say?" 
".e  seven.     Quick,  before  he  draws  a  card." 
ucio  placed  a  doubloon  on  the  seven. 

e  second  play  he  lost.     He  put  down  two  doubloons.     Again 
he  lost. 

doubloons  were  now  placed  on  the  seven. 

his  time  the  cards  did  not  fail  him.     Ducio  won.     He  raked 
gold,  the  winner  of  one  doubloon. 

think  111  change  the  method,  amigo.  I  won't  confine  myself 
one  card.  It  is  too  slow." 
Diicio  took  the  game  haphazard;  now  betting  on  this  or  that  card, 
vvitli  some  success  at  first,  but  later  his  luck  was  bad  and  he  lost 
:!<>;ivi]y.  He  became  the  observed  of  all,  which  added  to  his  plainly 
apparent  agitation.  He  nervously  placed  his  hand  in  another  pocket 
and  drew  forth  a  handful  of  gold,  laid  it  on  the  table  and  counted 
it  aside  with  a  finger.  Unobserved  to  himself,  he  had  pulled  forth 
the  paper  rhyme  which  Bonito  had  dropped  in  the  vault  in  his  aston- 
ishment at  the  condition  of  his  chest  of  treasure,  and 'which  Ducio 
had  secured. 

The  sight  of  this  paper  caused  an  exclamation  from  the  notary, 
who  recognized  it  as  the  one  Bonito  had  brought  to  him  that  very 
day  to  interpret.  As  Ducio  seemed  to  pay  little  attention  to  the  docu- 
ment, the  notary  leaned  forward  to  place  a  real  on  a  card,  and  before 
withdrawing  his  hand  surreptitiously  secured  the  paper.  The  man 
with  the  long  beard  noticed  the  whole  proceeding  and  divined  that 
the  notary's  object  in  betting  was  to  get  an  opportunity  to  secure  the 
paper  dropped  by  Ducio.  The  latter's  losses  had  become  so  great 
ihat  lie  decided  to  bet  no  more,  and  withdrew  from  the  monto  table. 
A  touch  on  the  shoulder  caused  him  to  face  his  unknown  adviser  at 

inning  of  the  play, 
ou  had  better  stuck  to  the  seven." 


„„,, 


288  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"'It  looks  that  way  now." 

"Your  losses  are  heavy." 

"No  matter.     I  have  enough." 

"Didn't  you  lose  a  paper?" 

"A  paper?" 

"Yes,  when  you  pulled  out  the  last  money." 

"I  remember — it  must  have  been — perhaps  it  is  yet  on  the  te 

"No,  I  saw  a  man  steal  it.  You  were  so  engrossed  in  your  game 
you  did  not  notice  him  when  he  secured  it." 

"What  could  he  have  wanted  with  that  paper?" 

"Who  knows?  He  seemed  to  know  what  it  was  the  moment  you 
dropped  it,  for  he  gave  a  grunt  of  surprise  and  a  look  clearly  indi- 
cating that  he  coveted  its  possession." 

"Show  me  the  man." 

"The  little  fellow  back  of  the  dealer.  Not  the  slight  fellow  with 
the  red  sash,  the  other.  He  is  a  notary  and  an  expert  in  papers." 

"I'll  see  this  notary,"  said  Ducio,  moving  in  the  direction  of 
the  subject  of  their  conversation. 

In  order  to  reach  the  position  behind  the  monte  dealer  it  was 
necssary  for  Ducio  to  go  to  his  right  or  left  around  the  crowd  that 
encircled  the  table.  He  accordingly  elbowed  his  way,  with  the  best 
haste  he  could  make,  to  the  right  and  in  a  moment  found  himself 
in  the  position  lately  occupied  by  the  notary.  But  that  worthy  was 
noy/here  to  be  seen.  Ducio  was  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the  disap- 
pearance and,  in  his  dilemma  as  to  how  to  proceed,  naturally  turned 
in  quest  of  his  quondam  acquaintance  with  the  long  beard,  who  had 
witnessed  the  surreptitious  appropriation  of  the  paper.  Here  again 
he  was  disappointed,  for  the  latter  also  had  vanished  or  was  indis- 
tinguishable in  the  crowd.  Finding  a  further  search  for  both  parties 
fruitless  he  left  the  Cabeza  de  Toro  and  crossed  the  street  to  the 
vinoteria. 

The  witness  to  the  abstraction  of  the  paper  was  also  an  observer 
of  the  movemnts  of  the  abstractor  and  of  Ducio  as  he  hastened  to 
get  to  the  rear  of  the  table.  The  former  having  risked  detection  to 
possess  the  paper  was  on  the  qui  vive  to  detect  whatever  of  demon- 
stration might  be  made  by  the  party  despoiled,  while  he,  ostensibly, 
was  deeply  interested  in  the  game,  Ducio's  look,  after  having  been 
apprised  of  the  theft  and  his  subsequent  movement  were  duly  ob- 
served and  were  the  signals  for  prompt  action  to  secure  an  escape. 
The  diminutive  form  of  the  decipherer  of  enigmas  found  less  diffi- 
culty in  moving  through  a  crowd  than  did  the  well  developed  figure 
of  the  creole.  He  glided  away  with  the  ease  of  a  snake,  and  by  the 


GUY  RAYMOND.  289 

time  his  pursuer  was  wondering  at  his  disappearance  he  stood  without 
the  door  contiguous  to  the  spot  where  Vasquez  dropped  a  portion  of 
the  money,,  the  possession  of  which  caused  his  murder.  Here  lie 
drew  himself  up  close  behind  one  of  the  projections  in  the  wall  of 
the  carcel,  where  he  could  command  a  view  of  the  door  whence  he 
had  just  issued.  The  fellow  with  the  long  beard  followed  the  course 
of  the  notary  and  gained  the  street  just  as  the  latter  stepped  into 
the  shadow  of  the  abutment. 

Feigning  indifference  he  passed  around  the  corner  of  the  carcel, 

but  glided  back  stealthily  and  took  a  position  unobserved  behind  a 

corresponding  projection  a  few  feet  from  the  other's  position.     A 

moment  later  Ducio  sallied  forth  as  already  stated,  and  as  he  slowly 

•d  the  two  concealed  men  he  said  aloud  in  English: 

"The  fellow  must  have  known  the  value  of  the  paper.  Who 
knows?  He  might  be  the  Portuguese  that  old  Trigg  talked  about. 
I  Fa!  Mr.  Guy  Raymond,  who  ever  you  are,  the  hidden  gold  to  which 
is  |  a  per  is  a  key  will  be  known  to  a  score  at  this  rate/' 

he  notary  watched  Ducio  until  he  was  well  into  the  vinoteria, 
he  emerged  from  his  hiding  place  and  stood  for  a  while  as  if 
uncertain  of  his  next  movement. 

•'This  must  be  the  Frenchman.  How  came  he  with  both  papers? 
The  rhyme  and  the  diagram.  Bonito  must  have  dropped  it.  But 
how  strange  that  it  <hould  have  come  into  his  possession!  A  chance 
in  a  million!  That  strange  fellow  with  the  long  beard  told  him  I 
had  secured  the  paper  and  he  is  after  me.  He  talked  as  he  passed 
«>ut,  but  not  in  French.  If  Bonito  has  lost  it  I  will  draw  it  out  of 

eeping  an  eye   on   the   vinoteria  the  notary  passed   on   to  the 

and  to  his  home. 

am  getting  into  a  secret,"  said  the  man  with  the  long  beard, 
B.i  he  lei' i  his  hiding  place.  "This  rascally  Creole  who  is  playing 
Frenchman  has  been  up  to  some  devilment.  Where  could  he  have 
g'otten  all  that  gold?  He  mentioned  old  Mr.  Trigg's  name  and  Senor 
tnond's.  lie  said  that  the  paper  was  a  key  to  gold.  And  this 
little  slippery  iiolary.  He  spoke  of  Bonito  as  having  been  in  posses- 
sion  of  (his  paper.  What  can  it  all  mean?  Perhaps  my  cousin,  the 
ton-ador  can  help  me  unravel  the  mystery.  I  am  as  sure  there  is  (  rim« 
at  the  hottom  of  it,  as  1  am  thai  m\  name  is  Manuel  Unix/' 

B  Riii/  mined  awav  the  young  man  with  ihe  red  sash  moved  out 

e  opposite  shadow. 
ere  is  a,  pretty  business."  he  said.     "Crime  and  gold  !     A  secret! 

</s   name;  (Juy    Raymond's.     The  notary,  too,   is   mixed  in  this 


290  GUY  RAYMOND. 


, 


strange  plot  that  promises  to  develop  rascality  if  nothing  more, 
what  I've  heard  there  is  yet  nothing  to  condemn  in  Ruiz.     He,  i 
seems,  is  not  arrested  yet  in  spite  of  reports  to  the  contrary.     This 
tall,  dark  fellow  whom  the  notary  called  a  Frenchman  is  the  same 
I  saw  yesterday  when  I  was  about  to  enter  Linda's  gate.     What  devi 
are  men !     They  use  darkness  to  practice  their  villainy.    The  Frenc 
man  certainly  had  a  supply  of  gold,  and  Ruiz  thinks  he  stole  it." 


CHAPTER  XL. 

When  Guy  and  Bonito  were  out  of  the  vault  the  latter  began  to 
feel  how  unwelcome  was  the  thought  that  another,  in  fact  two  other 
persons,  knew  of  the  hiding  place  of  his  treasure.  He  looked  at  his 
rescuer,  mentally  hoping  that  he  would  soon  be  shot  by  the  authori- 
ties. Yet  even  that  eventuation  would  not  wipe  out  the  difficulty, 
for  his  unknown  assailant  had  escaped  and  was  at  large  with  a  portion 
of  his  gold  and  was  doubtless  premeditating  a  second  raid  for  a  new 
supply  or  a  total  sweep  of  the  savings  of  a  lifetime. 

"Senor,  you  must  go  back  to  your  cell,"  lie  said  with  a  sigh.  "I 
only  wish  they  would  try  you  shortly  and  shoot  you." 

'"Shoot  me !    Bonito." 

"Shoot  you,  senor.     You  know  too  much." 

"But  with  me,  Bonito.  your  secret  is  safe.     My  honor — 


"Honor!     Honor  is  like  smoke,  with  such  knowledge.     A  litt 
puff  of  temptation  will  blow  it  out  of  sight." 

"In   your   experience   perhaps   you   are  correct.     Bonito,   in 
young  nation  to  which  I  belong  there  are  those  who  deem  honor  a 
duty,   and  who   place  duty  above  gold   or   any   of   the   temptatioi 
instigated  by  human  desires." 

"They  are  angels,  not  men." 

"Angels  are  myths;  mere  types  of  human  perfection." 

"I  wouldn't  trust  a  saint." 

"A  saint  is  above  temptation." 

"I  mean  before  they  are  made  saints." 

"Then  they  don't  deserve  canonization." 

"They  don't  deserve  it,  senor,  and  that's  why  the  church  waits  a 
hundred  years  to  let  their  backslidings  wrhile  in  the  flesh  grow  dim 
or  become  entirely  forgotten.  They  all  love  money,  laymen,  priests 
and  bishops;  even  the  pope  has  comfort  in  his  Peter's  pence.  Jesus, 
the  founder  of  the  faith,  cared  not  for  money,  and  was  content  with 
no  place  to  lay  his  head.  The  fashion  is  changed  now,  senor;  the 


thiw 

that  I 


GUY  RAYMOND.  291 

fathers  have  wealth  and  the  bishops  are  princes  with  palaces,  and— 
"Come,  Bonito.     I'll  report  you  and  have  you  excommunicated." 
"I  am  as  plain  with  el  padre  Ignacio,  and  he  is  half  inclined 
to  side  with  me.    If  they  were  all  like  el  padre,  Ignacio,  senor;  he  is 
an  exception.    But  come,  senor,  you  must  go  back  to  your  cell,  which 
T  hope  you  locked  when  you  came  out  to  my  rescue." 
"You  never  asked  me  how  I  got  out." 
"God  willed  it,  senor,  and  that  is  enough  for  Bonito." 
As  Guy  was  proceeding  to  his  cell  under  escort  of  his  crestfallen 
jailer,  a  mozo,  bearing  a  basket,  entered  the  court  and  announced 
11  iat  he  brought  a  dinner  for  Senor  Raymond  and  the  other  prisoner. 
"If  I  only  had  your  luck,  senor!     It  is  well  the  dinner  comes 
1.1 1  is  way,  for  I  have  no  idea  of  what  has  happened  in  my  kitchen 
since  I  was  struck  by  the  beastly  robber.     My  head  is  turned  by  the 
blows  that  the  cowardly  rascal  rained  on  me  from  behind.     Take  the 
basket,  senor,  and  divide  with  the  toreador,  who  is  perhaps  sober  by 
time." 

hen  Guy  found  himself  once  more  in  the  cell  he  discovered 
at  his  fellow  prisoner  was  still  asleep.  He  first  removed  the  cloth 
1o  examine  the  contents  of  the  basket,  and  was  surprised  to  find  a  note 
bearing  his  name.  He  eagerly  unfolded  it  and  reading  by  the  dim 
light  of  the  apartment,  gleaned  the  following: 

Sir  and  Friend: 

e  who  befriended  you  at  the  Cabeza  de  Toro  is  in  the  city 
is  the  writer  of  this.  Your  companion  in  the  carcel  has  been 
i.rrested  as  a  spy  disguised  as  a  toreador.  Let  him  conceal  his  true 
identity,  which  will  assist  me  to  escape  the  Argus  eyes  of  the  military, 
interests  are  mine.  Use  your  influence  with  -  -  to  carry  out 
ishes.  Your  servant, 

"M.  R." 

uy  at  once  divined  who  was  his  correspondent  and  comprehended, 
from  all  he  had  heard  from  Jose,  the  seriousness  of  the  situation  in 
which.  Ruiz  was  placed.  It  required  but  a  moment  to  formulate  a 
mode  of  procedure  that  would  consummate  the  wishes  of  his  friend, 
as  expressed  in  the  note. 

The  effects  of  dissipation  would  have  prolonged  Jose's  sleep  had 
lie  not  been  roused  by  his  fellow  prisoner,  who  calculated  that  the 
appetite  of  the  ex-toreador  must  be  as  keen  as  his  own.  Jose's  first 
glance,  after  rubbing  his  eyes,  was  at  the  stone  at  which  Guy  was 

when  he  dropped  off  to  sleep. 
So   you   gave    if   up,   son  or?" 


292  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"Not  exactly,  Jose.     Another  time  Fll  try  again." 

"You  must  be  hungry/'  Guy  added,  wishing  to  divert  the  coi 
versation  into  a  different  channel. 

"Yes,  hungry  I  am  senor.     Let  us  rap  for  Bonito  and 

"Our  dinner  is  here,  and  no  thanks  to  our  jailer.  It  comes  from 
a  friend  and  is  Candelario's  best  cooking." 

The  two  were  soon  discussing  the  contents  of  the  basket. 

"I  have  news  from  Ruiz,"  said  Guy.  "He  is  still  in  town  and 
desires  you  to  play  the  part  of  the  arrested  toreador,  until  he  is  safe 
from  the  clutches  of  the  military." 

"But  Bonito  will  discover — 

"Not  necessarily.  Keep  back  well  in  the  cell  whenever  he  comes 
and  I  will  manage  Bonito.  The  authorities  must  still  suppose  that 
Euiz  is  in  their  power." 

Guy's  thoughts  crowded  fast  upon  his  mind  as  the  confinement 
of  his  cell  brought  the  inevitable  reaction  that  must  follow  the  excit- 
ing incidents  through  which  he  had  passed  since  he  first  peered  down 
the  dark  descent  discovered  by  the  raising  of  the  stone.  He  listened 
patiently  and  answered  abstractedly  to  the  remarks  of  the  major  domo, 
which  were  rambling  and  speculative  as  to  Ruiz's  intentions  in  town, 
the  stay  of  the  toreadors,  and  other  minor  topics,  while  his  own 
earnest  reflections  were  connected  with  his  future  and  the  necessity 
of  his  deliverance  from  the  carcel  and  escape  from  the  Mexican  lines. 
The  deliverance  seemed  now  the  less  difficult  since  his  knowledge  of 
the  subterranean  passage  assured  him  of  a  mode  of  exit,  a  secret 
that  Bonito  had  little  dreamed  had  passed  into  his  possession.  If  he 
could  communicate  with  Ruiz  the  probability  was  that  an  escape  could 
be  successfully  planned.  He  turned  the  matter  over  in  his  mind 
until  he  became  nervous  from  the  intensity  of  the  thought,  and 
paced  his  cell  for  relief.  In  all  human  aims  successful  attainmc 
must  have  for  a  precursor  a  fixity  of  purpose,  to  steel  the  nei 
of  action. 

Ducio's  determination  was  to  interview  the  notary  at  once  and 
demand  the  paper  he  had  abstracted  from  the  monte  table.  He  had 
read  it  while  dissembling  in  the  church,  and  was  convinced  that  it 
was  the  key  to  the  diagram  in  the  possession  of  the  authorities,  and 
which  he  had  stolen  from  Mr.  Trigg's  papers.  He  cursed  himself  for 
his  carelessness,  and  resolved  to  repossess  himself  of  it  at  all  hazai 
He  knew  the  treasure  it  alluded  to  was  on  Galveston  Island,  as 
rhyme  confirmed  the  statement  of  Mr.  Trigg,  while  in  consul iaii< 
with  Perry  and  Hamilton.  He  indulged  in  liberal  potations  at 
vinoteria.  It  \\as  cuslomarv  with  the  Creole  when  in  his  cups 


Qind 

aent 
srves 


GUY  KAY AI  OND.  293 

talk  to  himself,  and  on  this  occasion  he  indulged  in  the  habit  to 
some  extent,  employing  at  times  the  English  and  again  the  Frem-h 
t«  express  his  dissatisfaction  with  his  losses  and  his  intention  to 
make  the  notary  pay  for  his  theft  of  the  paper.  Ruiz,  who  wad-hod 
liis  entrance  to  the  vinoteria,  had  also  resolved  to  keep  an  eye  and 
ear  open  to  ascertain  the  destination  and  intentions  of  the  man  whoso 
enmity  he  had  somehow  incurred.  To  facilitate  this  intention  he 
gained  a  position  outside  the  door  of  the  vinoteria,  whence  he  could 
hour  anything  that  might  be  said  within.  He  had  to  remain  some 
time  before  Ducio  had  reached  a  state  of  talkativeness;  but  at 
length  he  was  rewarded  by  learning  that  the  notary  was  to  be  brought 
to  account  that  very  night.  This  important  fact  gleaned,  the  listener 
left  his  post  and  proceeded  hastily  down  the  street. 

The  notary's  modest  establishment  was  lost  in  the  obscurity  which 
1  ung  like  a  sable  mantle  over  the  Calle  Soledad  on  the  night  of  the 
incidents  just  related  and  was  scarcely  distinguishable,  even  on  very 
close  inspection,  from  the  monotonous  line  of  wall  that  constituted 
the  peculiar  architecture  of  the  city.  The  passing  patrol  on  its  night 
rounds,  or  some  belated  frequenters  of  the  Cabeza  de  Toro,  might 
have  discerned  the  faint  gleam  of  a  light  struggling  through  the 
crevice  of  the  notary's  window  shutter,  indicating  a  late  devotion 
to  some  branch  or  department  of  that  worthy's  calling. 

Within,  the  little  dusty  office  presented  about  the  same  appear- 
ance that  it  did  on  the  occasion  of  Bonito's  visit.  The  glimmer  of 
a  low-burned  candle  revealed  the  occupant  in  apparent  study,  leaning 
back  in  his  chair  with  right  arm  resting  on  the  table,  while  the 
hand  slowly,  and  perhaps  unconsciously,  turned  a  pencil.  Before 
him  lay  the  paper  which  Ducio  had  lost  at  the  monte  table,  and 
which,  on  inspection,  proved  to  be  the  identical  original  so  long 
deposited  with  him  by  the  jailer,  and  withdrawn  by  its  owner  that 
very  afternoon.  The  notary's  reflections  were  rapid,  intense  and  sin- 
ister. How  had  Bonito  parted  with  the  paper?  How  was  it  that 
the  Frenchman  so  lately  from  the  home  of  old  Antonio,  the  possessor 
of  the  diagram  the  rhyme  explained  so  well,  had  now  become  the 

odiau  <>f  the  rhyme?  Was  it  a  fortuitous  circumstance?  Had 
the  jailer  made  a  trade  for  a  consideration,  to  one  who  knew  well 
the  value  of  the  diagram?  Had  violence  been  used  to  obtain  it? 
Won-  any  of  these  hypotheses  true,  the  indications  were  plain  that 
1'onito  had  not  overestimated  the  value  of  the  documents,  and  that 
a  hidden  treasure  awaited  the  coming  of  their  possessor.  That  the 
Frem-hman  had  missed  the  paper  was  apparent  from  his  expression 
ami  movements.  The  unknown  with  the  long  beard  had  pointed  him 


294  GUY  KAYMOND. 

out  as  the  abstractor.  Could  they  trace  him  or  even  identify  him? 
His  copies,,  carefully  filed  away  in  his  chest,  were  as  serviceable  as 
the  originals.  Had  the  Frenchman  fully  gleaned  the  import  of  the 
rhyme.?  If  not,  he  was  sole  master  of  the  situation.  If  he  had — 
what  then?  Would  he  incur  risk  for  its  repossession?  The  quantum 
of  courage  and  character  in  his  makeup  would  perhaps  determine 
his  action.  If  he  could  only  have  this  Frenchman  assassinated,  there 
would  be  no  obstacle  to  his  eventual  possession  of  old  Antonio's  gold. 
No  necessity  for  haste  then.  On  the  other  hand,  with  the  French- 
man living,  there  would  have  to  be  active  movements,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  menace  to  himself  entailed  by  a  mutual  knowledge  of  the 
buried  treasure.  The  notary  was  startled  by  his  own  sinister  thoughts, 
for  he  had  never  plotted  against  a  life.  But  here  gold,  or  the  secret 
of  its  locality,  was  the  tempter  to  inveigle  him  from  the  even  tenor 
of  his  life  to  enter  the  arena  of  crime  or  of  criminal  intent.  He 
watched  the  flickering  light  now  struggling  from  the  socket,  its  motion 
casting  grim  shadows  along  the  walls  and  bethought  him  of  the  nec- 
essity of  a  new  candle  before  the  expiring  flame  should  be  dissipated 
in  darkness  as  black  as  his  own  bad  thoughts.  The  new  dip  was 
ignited  just  in  time,  and  he  held  it  until  the  hot  socket  of  the  stick 
would  be  cold  enough  for  its  reception. 

"If  this  Frenchman  could  only  be  put  out  of  the  way,"  he  mut- 
tered. "It  would  be  as  easy  as  snuffing  out  the  flame  of  a  candle, 
if  I  could  only  get  ihe  authorities  to  believe  that  he  is  a  spy,  and 
that  diagram  he  had  is  a  plan  of  defenses  for  Galveston  Island.  A 
good  idea!  In  the  morning  I  will  go  to  headquarters  and  I  will 
put  a  flea  into  the  lieutenant's  ear." 

The  notary's  reflections  were  interrupted  at  this  point  by  a  rap 
at-  the  door.     Snatching  the  paper  from  the  table  and  concealing 
on  his  person,  he  demanded : 

"Quien   es?" 

The  reply  came: 

"The  sergeant  of  the  patrol." 

On   receiving  this  reply  he  did  not  hesitate  to  enter  the   dm 
hnll   and  open  the  street  door.     The  caller  entered  and   pushed   his 
way  in  as  far  as  the  door  of  the  little  office,  without  replying  to 
second  inquiry  of  the  notary  as  to  what  was  wanted. 

Tin1  light  of  the  candle  revealed  to  the  astonished   official,  not 
the  military  visitor  he  expected  to  see,  but  the  Frenchman  who 
occupied  his  thoughts  during  the  time  which   had   intervened  sii 
IK-  Imd  quitted  the  Cabeza  de  Toro. 

"You  i\r(t  not  a  sergeant,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  recognized  Du< 


GUY  KAYMOND.  295 

"But  you  are  the  notary/' 
"I  am." 

"Well,  I  have  some  business  with  yon,  and  claimed  to  be  the 
sergeant  to  ensure  admittance." 

"It  is  very  late  to  call  on  business.  I  will  see  you  in  the 
morning." 

"Excuse  me,  senor  notary,  but  T  prefer  to  at  least  arrange  the 
preliminaries  tonight." 

"Your  business,  senor;  but  cut  it  short." 
"You  were  at  the  Cabeza  de  Toro  tonight." 

.mistake,  senor.     It  has  been  six  months  since  I  paid  a  visit 
place." 

liar  ns  well  as  a  thief,"  said  Ducio  aside, 
saw  you  there  myself.     You  took  a  paper  I  dropped  on  the 
dealer's  table,  and  I  have  come  to  get  it." 

"Santa   Maria !     How  can  you   say  it,   senor,  when   T  have  not 
out  of  my  office?" 

id  you  not  skulk  out  of  the  place  when  you  saw  me  move  in 
direction?" 

"Hold,  senor!  Bid  not  the  individual  you  took  for  me  wear  a 
\\hite  hat  a,  little  set  back  from  his  face?" 

"True;  but  nevertheless  it  was  you,  the  notary." 

have  it.    It  was  my  twin  brother.    A  case  of  mistaken  identity. 
My  brother   often    visits  the   Cabeza    de   Toro,   and   we   are 
v- Tit  able  Dromios." 

Ducio  was  silenced,  but  assumed  a  doubtful  expression. 
"Sec.  senor!     Here  is  the  hat  I  have  worn  for  a  month.     The 
p'T-on  you  saw  wore  a  white  one." 

"\Vell,  senor  notary,  if  you  have  any  regard  for  your  twin  coun- 
terpart, you  had  better  help  me  get  this  paper  I  spoke  of.  I  will 
u'iv<!  him  until  tomorrow  evening  to  produce  it,  and  then — and 

then " 

"Knough,  senor.  No  need  of  stating  any  consequences.  If  you 
Mill  call  tomorrow  evening  I  will  give  you  my  brother's  reply,  or 
bring  you  both  face  to  face." 

Ducio,  only  half  convinced,  did  not  know  how  to  contradicl  further 
the  solemn  asseverations  of  the  other,  who  might  be  one  of  triplets, 
BO  resembling  in  features  as  to  reproduce  all  the  ludicrou--  mistakes 
Avhieli  filled  Hie  experience  of  the  Shakespearean  twins,  fie  there- 
fore hade  the  notary  good  night  with  an  injunction  to  be  faithful  to 
his  promise,  to  avoid  unpleasant  consequences. 

'The  scoundrel!"  said   the  notary  as  he  closed  his  door.     "He 


296  GUY  RAYMOND. 

shall  account  for  his  possession  of  that  paper.     Brother!     Ha!  Ha! 
I  never  had  a  brother.     It  was  well  that  I  put  away  that  white  hat/*' 

"Fll  make  inquiries  about  this  fellow's  brother,"  said  Ducio,  as 
he  turned  towards  the  plaza. 

"The  notary  played  his  part  well/'  said  Ruiz,  emerging  from  the 
rear  of  the  notarial  office.  "Fll  be  on.  hand  tomorrow  at  the  meeting 
of  these  worthies,  an  inAdsible  witness  of  the  finale  of  this  affair/' 

The  next  morning  the  notary  visited  the  carcel  and  on  inquiry 
was  told  that  Bonito  had  not  been  seen  and  that  his  whereabouts 
were  unknown.  Disappointed  in  not  seeing  the  jailer,  he  turned  his 
steps  towards  headquarters.  On  his  way  to  the  latter  place  he  began 
to  think  that  it  would  be  better  to  not  question  Bonito  about  the 
loss  of  the  rhyme  as  it  would  attach  to  that  paper  an  importance 
that  might  defeat  his  own  plans.  He  had  it  in  his  possession  and 
would  keep  it. 

At  headquarters  he  was  received  by  the  pompous  little  lieutenant, 
who  listened  to  his  alleged  suspicions  relative  to  Ducio;  but  again 
he  was  disappointed  as  the  commander  in  chief  had  decided  that  the 
paper  was  a  harmless  diagram,  and  there  could  be  no  importance 
attached  to  any  contemplated  defenses  for  Galveston  Island,  as  it 
stood  in  no  danger  of  an  attack  from  Mexico  in  its  present  condition, 
and  the  Texans  could  have  no  pretext  to  spend  money  where  it 
would  be  of  so  little  service  to  their  rebellion. 

The  notary  therefore  became  uneasy  as  the  day  advanced  and  he 
had  discovered  no  loophole  through  which  to  escape  from  the  ire  of 
the  Frenchman,  who  would  doubtless  ascertain  that  he  had  no  twin 
brother  in  Bexar.  He  thought  of  assassination,  but  failed  in  nerve 
to  perpetrate  the  villainy  or  the  chic  to  employ  an  agent  for  its 
consummation. 

When  the  hour  arrived  for  the  meeting  between  the  baffled  not 
and  the  scheming  Creole,  the  former  awaited  the  interview  with  a 
m.Tvous  feelino-  that'  sprang  from  the  uncertainty  of  the  policy  he  was 
to  pursue  in  order  to  fend  off  the  demands  if  not  the  attack  of  the 
other. 

The  door  was  left  ajar  for  the  latter's '  entrance,  and  upon 
Arrival  he  stalked  into  the  room  where  sat  the  proprietor,  apparantly 
engrossed  with  a  pile  of  papers,  The  greeting-  was  upon  the  verge 
of  frigid.  Ducio  seated  himself  and  the  eyes  of  each,  as  they  encoun- 
tered. <'\ preyed  the  sparring  which  was  to  follow. 

"Your   brother,   not   being   present,    I    trust,    senor   notary 
you  are  ready  to  produce  the  paper  which  he  appropriated." 


y,   that 


GUY  RAYMOND.  297 

UI  am  convinced,  monsieur,  from  the  tone  of  your  remark,  that 
}  ou  have  serious  doubts  of  the  existence  of  my  brother." 

"Your  notaryship  is  very  correct.  I  have  discovered  that  you  are 
no  Dromio.  You  were  at  the  Cabeza  de  Toro  and  you  are  the  identi- 
cal party  who  took  the  paper  I  dropped  from  the  monte  table." 

"Well,  monsieur,  I  admit  every  word  that  you  say.  But,  mon- 
sieur, there  is  a  checkmate.  You  play  chess,  monsieur;  you  know 
what  a  checkmate  means.  1  have  found  out  your  game  and  have 
made  a  discovery  that  effectually  blocks  any  further  move  without 
my  consent.  Does  the  monsieur  comprehend  ?" 

"Explain  yourself,"  said  Ducio,  rather  impatiently. 

"Compose  yourself,"  replied  his  opponent. 

"Proceed.  I  will  grant  yon  n  1V\\  minutes  to  explain  this  check- 
mate, and  then — 

"Monsieur  is  very  gracious  to  grant  me  time,  but  I  will  assure 
monsieur  that  it  is  entirely  gratuitous." 

"You  are  insolent,  and  my  patience  is  exhausted." 

"Will  monsieur  explain  how  he  came  in  possession  of  the  pretty 
rhyme?"  replied  the  notary,  in  a  patronizing  manner. 

"That  is  no  affair  of  yours/1 

I    "But  it  is  one  affecting  law  and  practice." 
"What  mean  you?"  asked  Ducio,  starting  to  his  feet. 

"Be  calm,  monsieur.  When  villains  confer  they  should  not  allow 
themselves  to  be  ruffled  like  ordinary  people.  You,  monsieur,  are  a 
villain  by  nature;  I,  by  accident,  a  distinction  without  a  difference 
as  to  results  when  the  officers  of  the  law  bring  us  to  the  bar  of  justice. 
The  jailer,  Don  Manoel,  better  known  as  Bonito,  was  the  holder  of 
the  paper  you  are  so  exercised  about.  I  recognized  it  the  moment 
you  dropped  it  and  therefore  secured  it.  I  have  discovered  how  you 
obtained  this  paper,  monsieur,  and  the  sooner  you  drop  the  heroic  and 
come  down  to  common  sense,  the  sooner  will  we  understand  each 
other." 

Ducio  was  checkmated,  but  not  satisfied. 

"What  do  you  propose?"  he  asked. 

"What  do  you  know?" 

"That  the  rhyme  i«  a  key  to  the  discovery  of  something  hidden." 

"An  iron  pot  with  an  iron  lid,"  quoted  the  notary,  humorously. 

"That  this  Manoel  is  a  Portuguese  friend  of  one  Antonio  who 
Hind  in  New  Orleans.  " 

"  'Beneath  the  cross  securely  hid/  "  continued  the  notary. 

"That  one  Guy  Eaymond,  supposed  to  be  in  this  city,  is  to  be  the 
hfir  of  the  man  who  has  another  paper  showing  position  of  the 
treasure." 


298  GUY  EATMOND. 


''  'Holds  the  treasure  arid  the  gold  taken  by  a  seaman  bold/  "  con- 
tinued the  quoter.  "But  how  came  you  in  possession  of  this  informa- 
tion?" 

"By  accident;  but  through  a  natural  propensity  for  eavesdrop- 
ping." 

"Accident  assisted  you  in  securing  the  rhyme  also,  but  your  evil 
nature  prompted  you  to  the  crime,"  said  the  notary,  narrowly  watching 
for  a  clue  upon  which  to  build  the  true  mode  of  the  other's  procedure 
in  getting  the  paper  out  of  Bonito's  possession. 

"Senor  Notary,  this  must  end;  you  know  too  much,"  said  Ducio, 
rising  threateningly. 

"Hold,  monsieur !  If  you  should  harm  or  murder  me  it  would 
do  you  no  good.  We  both  know  the  secret,  but  I  have  the  advantage. 
The  papers  are  secure  from  your  reach.  I  alone  can  produce  them. 
Between  us  we  can  share  this  buried  fortune,  and  we  can  save  time 
and  trouble  by  coming  to  an  understanding." 

"Go  on,"  said  Ducio,  seating  himself. 

"We  can  work  our  way  to  the  island  and  divide  the  spoils." 

"When  do  you  propose  to  go?" 

"We  can  decide  that  during  the  coming  week.  It  can  be  reported 
that  our  destination  is  Mexico/' 

Ducio  hesitated  a  moment,  then  said : 

"Enough !  I  agree.  'Tis  said  that  there  is  honor  among  thieves, 
and  upon  this  I  must  predicate  my  trust  in  your  performance  of  your 
part  of  the  obligation." 

"There  is  no  thievery  in  taking  possession  of  treasure  trove. 
Therefore  we  cannot  be  classed  as  thieves,"  reasoned  the  notary. 

When  Ducio  left  his  confederate  it  was  in  a  frame  of  mind  in 
which  it  was  not  difficult  to  persuade  himself  that  he  had  been  baffled 
by  an  adversary  for  whose  powers  he  entertained  a  contempt.  He 
had  made  a  bold  play  for  success  and  through  his  own  carelessness 
had  exposed  his  possession  of  the  secret.  Necessity  for  action  was 
most  apparent.  What  kind  of  action  must  it  be?  His  villainous 
disposition  pointed  to  the  death  of  the  notary  and  regaining  the  lost 
paper.  He  would  put  this  in  execution  that  very  night  but  for  one 
thing.  A  murder  would  necessitate  immediate  flight,  and  there  in 
the  vault  of  old  Bonito  was  wealth  that  need  not  be  hunted  among 
the  drifting  sands  of  a  distant  island.  The  trouble  was  to  secure 
the  jailer's  gold  and  secrete  it  without  detection.  The  miser,  if  not 
killed  by  his  assault,  had  missed  the  doubloons  he  had  appropriated 
and  would  be,  doubtless,  vigilant  to  protect  his  hoard,  as  well  as  lo 
discover  his  mysterious  assailant.  He  would  run  no  risks  of  arrest, 


GUY  RAYMOND.  299 

however,  and  endanger  the  heller  chances  which  seemed  l<>  oflVr  easy 
discovery  of  the  buried  gold.  JSuch  wore  Uucio's  reflections  as  he 
leisurely  moved  along  under  cover  of  the  darkness,  little  suspecting 
that  his  interview  with  the  notary  had  had  a  witness. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 

The  morning  following  the  conference  between  Ducio  and  the 
notary,  Manuel  Ruiz  wrote  the  following  note  to  Guy  Raymond : 

"My  friend: — As  the  time  is  pressing  for  the  accomplishment 
of  my  errand  to  this  place,  I  write  to  post  you  in  order  that  you  may 
profit  by  an  opportunity  to  escape  from  the  enemy's  lines  to  the 
ranks  of  the  Texans.  An  officer  of  the  Mexican  army  of  high  rank 
is  here  and  in  correspondence  with  a  spy  in  the  councils  of  our  friends. 
It  is  proposed  to  kidnap  this  officer  and  to  convey  him  by  the  river 
outside  the  town  limits.  1  have  laid  all  plans  necessary  for  the  suc- 
cess of  the  undertaking.  In  disguise  I  have  visited  the  nest  and  have 
found  out  the  very  bed  on  which  this  person  sleeps.  This  information 
gained,  I  have  asked  the  cooperation  of  a  party  from  the  Texans, 
who  will  descend  the  river  in  a  boat  on  -  —night.  You  will  please 
inform  me  of  the  best  plan  in  your  judgment  to  be  pursued  to  effect 
your  escape  from  the  cared.  I  do  not  think  Bonito  can  be  bribed, 
miser  though  he  may  be.  I  have  an  idea,  but  would  like  to  hear 
from  you  before  I  give  expression  to  it.  You  should  be  out  in  time 
to  help  us  in  our  undertaking.  Reply  to  me  through  the  basket  re- 
ti.rned  to  the  Candelario's. 

Your  servant, 

M.  R." 

The  note  came  with  the  evening  meal  and  Bonito,  in  person,  was 
the  bearer  of  the  basket,  covered  as  usual  by  one  of  Candelario's  nap- 
kins. The  jailer  was  reticent.  His  late  experience  had  unnerved  him 
to  a  degree  that  evidenced  a  marked  change,  not  merely  from  a  char- 
acteristic loquacity  to  a  sententious  expression,  but  in  a  physical 
manner,  his  jolly,  half  hopeful  look  having  given  place  to  a  woe- 
begone appearance  emphasized  by  a  frequent  twitching  of  the  facial 
nerves. 

"I  hope  you  feel  in  better  spirits,  Bonito,"  said  Guy,  as  the 
other  handed  in  the  basket. 

"There  is  your  supper,  senor,"  he  replied,  evasively. 

"What  news,  Bonito?" 

"I  am  not  a  newsdealer.  And  then,  where's  the  heart  to  gather 
news  and  talk  gossip  when  one's  head  is  the  target  for  bad  luck? 


LJ-J-O 

mrt, 

sket, 


300  GUY  RAYMOND. 

But  th"re  i>  sonic  news  for  you.     The  orders  are  to  keep  you  and  the 
toreador  under  a  strict  watch.     There  can  be  no  privileges  of  com 
senor,  as  before." 

"Thanks,  Bonito,  for  the  information." 

When  Guy  read  the  note  from  Ruiz,  which  he  found  in  the  basl 
he  began  to  ruminate  on  the  necessity  of  escape  now  more  apparent 
since  the  nature  of  Bonito's  last  orders  became  known  to  him.  There 
was  evidently  some  influence  working  against  him  more  potent  than 
the  prejudice  of  race,  or  the  suspicion  of  his  implication  in  the  murder 
of  Vasquez.  The  authorities  were  under  the  impression  that  Ruiz 
was  his  fellow  prisoner,,  and  upon  the  latter  and  himself  had  converged 
a  suspicion  of  complicity  in  that  tragedy.  Hence  the  strictness  of 
Bonito's  orders.  Jose's  masquerade  would  be  lifted  in  the  event  of 
a  trial  or  investigation  requiring  identification  and  a  search  for  Manuel 
be  instituted. 

On  the  return  of  the  jailer  to  fetch  water  and  to  take  away  the 
basket  and  dishes,  Guy  slipped  in  a  paper  among  the  latter  upon 
which  was  written  the  following  words : 

"Whenever  my  services  will  be  required  give  me  at  least  three 
hours  notice  of  the  time  and  place  to  meet  you  and  I  will  be  there." 

The  moodiness  which  had  possessed  Bonito  still  asserted  itself 
when  he  came  for  the  things,  but  he  lingered  after  having  possessed 
himself  of  the  basket  as  if  he  were  inclined  to  say  something.  Guy, 
observing  this,  put  his  hand  familiarly  on  his  shoulder  and  said  in 
undertone : 

"Bonito,  amigo,  make  me  your  confident  and  perhaps  I  may  h( 
you  to  regain  your  cheerful  manner.  You  have  been  a  good  jailer 
and  kind  to  me.  Unburden  your  heart  to  one  who  would  not  be 
ungrateful  for  ten  times  the  gold  you  ever  possessed." 

Bonito's  finger  went  to  his  lips  as  he  glanced  cautiously  towards 
Jose,  who  was  making  his  pallet,  and  then  gave  Guy  a  look  full  of 
admonition. 

"Your  parole,  senor;  not  to  attempt  to  escape,"  and  he  drew  his 
prisoner  into  the  passageway  and  out  of  hearing  of  the  other  inmate 
of  the  cell. 

"I  think  I  know  who  assaulted  me  in  the — in  the — 

"Down  there,"  said  Guy.     "Well  ?" 

"The  Frenchman." 

"The  Frenchman  ?" 

"He  was  a  prisoner  but  was  released." 

"Ah!     I  see.     The  same  who  denounced  Manuel — but  the  proof! 

"It  could  only  be  he." 


GUY  KAYMOND.  301 

Guy  thought  a  moment,  then  facing  the  other  he  put  a  hand  on 
each  of  his  shoulders  and  in  that  attitude  of  confidence  that  is  cal- 
culated to  enlist  the  interest  and  win  over  resistance. 

"Bonito,"  he  said,  slowly;  "I  have  an  idea  which,  if  carried  out, 
will  put  this  Frenchman  out  of  your  way  and  silence  a  witness  to — 
to — you  understand." 

"Yes  senor.     Yes — yes." 

"Let  me  have  tonight  to  think  it  over/' 

"I  will,  senor;  think  and  think  well,  and  I  will  be  your  servant. 
It  is  strange  I  have  this  confidence  in  you,  senor.  You  know  all, 
and  yet  I  find  myself  arguing  with  myself  that  you  would  not  touch 
one  centado.  But  this  dark-faced  Frenchman,  senor;  he  has  such 
cunning  in  his  eyes  that  when  I  look  in  them  I  see  the  treachery  of  an 
Indian  without  his  courage;  the  venom  of  a  rattlesnake  without  its 
warning.  He  is  a  favorite  at  headquarters  and  I  have  just  learned 
that  to  him  are  due  the  orders  for  your  stricter  confinement." 

"We  will  attend  to  this  subject  of  France,  Bonito.  Fetch  me  a 
light  after  you  deliver  this  basket." 

"I  will,  senor,  but  have  it  put  out  when  the  relief  comes  at  ten." 

The  morning  after  Guy's  rearrest,  Linda  went  to  the  monte  pio's 
to  make  some  trifling  purchase.  The  proprietor,  who  had  always  had 
a  soft  spot  in  his  heart  for  the  pretty  daughter  of  the  jailer,  received 
he;r  in  his  usually  gracious  manner.  Linda  was  really  his  choice  for 
a  wife,  but  the  girl  was  refractory  and  resisted  the  attempts  of  her 
father  who,  in  his  blundering  way,  had  endeavored  to  make  her  com- 
prehend the  importance  of  an  alliance  with  a  man  possessed  of  lantold 
articles  of  value,  with  no  knowing  how  many  sacks  of  doubloons. 

"What  will  Linda  have  this  morning?"  asked  her  suitor. 

"A  little  ring  I  saw  here.  Tomorrow  is  my  god-child's  birthday 
and  he  must  have  a  present.  But  the  ring  is  gone,.  How  unlucky 
I  am." 

"Certainly  among  all  these  you  will  find  one  to  suit." 

I   "I  had  set  my  heart  on  the  one  sold." 
"You  should  have  engaged  it;  but  perhaps  you  are  opposed  to  all 
kinds  of  engagements/' 

Linda  turned  away  as  if  annoyed. 

"How  is  the  American  taking  his  arrest?"  he  contineud.  "He, 
perhaps,  has  not  heard  of  the  rumor  that  he  and  Manuel  Euiz  are 
to  be  shot,  and  that  without  a  trial.  It  is  said  that  their  guilt 
is  so  plain  that  not  even  the  decision  of  a  military  court  will  be 
needed." 

"How  heard  you  this  report  ?"  asked  Linda,  excitedly. 


302  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"Now  you  are  interested,  my  little  one.  This  fellow  has  turned 
the  heads  of  the  women." 

"Tell  me,  senor,  if  what  you  said  is  true  ?" 

"Sancho  and  the  lieutenant  of  the  staff  say  it  is  so  decided. 
Frenchman  is  the  principal  witness  against  them  on  one  count,  that 
of  being  spies  within  the  lines,  while  as  murderers  of  Vasquez,  the 
evidence  is  quite  plain." 

Linda  did  not  return  home  when  she  left  the  monte  pio's,  but 
going  diagonally  across  the  plaza  she  left  San  Fernando  to  her  right 
and  turned  down  South  Flores  street  until  she  arrived  before  the 
home  of  the  Navarros. 

Beatrice  admitted  her  in  answer  to  her  summons. 

"What,  Linda !     In  tears  !" 

"Oh,  Beatrice !     Beatrice !     I  hate  to  tell  you." 

The  sobbing  girl  threw  herself  into  a  chair  and  was  a  moment 
or  two  recovering  herself  sufficiently  to  proceed. 

"Do  speak,  Linda.     Is  your  father  sick?" 

"Worse,  Beatrice,  worse." 

"What!     Dying  BP 

"Oh  no — no — Senor  Raymond !     Oh,  Beatrice !  Senor  Raymond !" 

Beatrice's  cheek  blanched,  and  she  held  the  table  against  which 
she  was  leaning  with  a  firmer  clutch.  She  spoke  not,  but  awaited 
with  fixed  features  the  ability  of  her  friend  to  proceed. 

Linda,  with  averted  look,  continued : 

"It  is  said  that  Senor  Raymond  and  Manuel  Ruiz  will  certainly 
be  shot." 

"Certainly?"  demanded  Beatrice.     "Certainly,  said  you?" 

Her  lips  were  pale  and  compressed.  Her  handsomely  chiseled 
nostrils  expanded  to  a  measured  respiration,  indicating  strong  feeling 
and  a  stronger  purpose. 

"I  had  it  from  the  monte  pio,  and  he  said  it  came  from  those  in 
authority — from  Sancho  and  the  lieutenant  of  the  staff." 

"I  will  see  my  father.  I  will  see  Father  Ignacio.  I  will  face 
the  general  himself.  I  will — Oh,  Guy !  Guy !  To  be  a  victim  to  such 
a  rabble.  Linda,  it  shall  not  be.  As  I  love  him  I  will  save  him.  I 
may  be  absolutely  nothing  to  him,  but  I  am  determined  he  shall  not 
be  shot  like  a  dog  by  this  cowardly  mob  which  calls  itself  an  army. 
Linda,  you  will  help  me.  I  may  need  your  assistance  if  the  fiend? 
prove  deaf  to  the  appeal  of  justice  or  to  the  force  of  influence.  There 
is  no  time  to  lose.  This  may  require  prompt  action  and  moments  may 
be  precious.  Do  you  glean  everything  in  the  shape  of  facts  and  sift 
each  rumor  that  you  hear  to  discover  the  grain  of  truth  it  may  con- 
tain." 


GUY  RAYMOND.  303 

Beatrice  paced  the  room  excitedly,  while  Linda,  half  rising  to  go, 
watched  her. 

"Yes,  Linda,  go.  Through  your  solicitude  I  detect  your  love  for 
him.  All  the  better.  Your  passion  will  spur  you  to  his  assistance. 
As  for  myself,  I  swear  that  he  shall  be  released,  and  with  God's  help 
and  my  deep  love  the  strongest  walls  of  Bexar  cannot  hold  him." 

"Beatrice,  I  will  go  and  learn  all  I  can.  Perhaps  my  father  will 
know  something.  I  will  love  him  for  your  sake,  Beatrice,  and  for  you 
I  will  help  to  liberate  him." 

Linda  stole  softly  out  and  when  the  door  closed  behind  her  Beat- 
rice left  the  room  and,  proceeding  through  a  back  hall,  opened  a  door 
that  led  into  a  yard.  She  called: 

"Miguel !     Miguel !" 

An  answer  came  in  the  strong  accents  of  a  man,  and  presently 
the  owner  of  the  voice  appeared.  He  was  of  large  proportions  and 
tall,  with  a1  slight  stoop  of  the  shoulders.  His  whole  physique  in- 
dicated great  strength  and  his  dress  classed  him  as  a  mozo  of  all  work. 

"Miguel,  come  in;  I  want  to  talk  to  you." 

The  giant  followed  her  into  the  hall,  and  at  her  sign,  took  a  seat. 
She  drew  a  chair  close  to  him. 

"Miguel,  I  am  in  trouble  and  want  you  to  help  me." 

"I  am  your  servant,  senorita." 

"But  this  is  something  difficult  and  dangerous." 

"All  the  same — your  servant." 

"Miguel,  you  have  been  with  our  family  since  years  before  my 
birth;  you  have  been  faithful  and  Don  Juan  would  risk  his  life  for 
you,  as  I  know  you  would  for  him.  Promise  me  now  that  what  I 
will  say  to  you  will  not  be  repeated  without  my  permission." 

"Your  servant  promises." 

"Miguel,  you  are  familiar  with  the  carcel.  I  have  heard  you  tell 
stories  of  the  place,  and  once  you  said  that  there  was  a  secret  passage 
from  a  part  of  the  prison  leading  to  the  jailer's  quarters." 

"There  is  a  passage  known  only  to  a  few.  I  once  helped  to  repair 
the  cell  into  which  it  opens,  and1  although  it  has  been  so  long  ago 
I  beleive  that  in  the  dark  I  could  find  the  stone  covering  the  opening/' 

"Oh !  Miguel !  Would  you  go  with  me  to  find  that  opening  in 
the  quarters,  and  when  found,  would  you  help  undo  the  way  to  the 
cell  if  I,  Beatrice  Navarro,  were  with  you — by  your  very  side?" 

"I  am  your  servant,  senorita.  It  will  be  only  necessary  to  com- 
mand me." 

"Here,  then,  Miguel — good  Miguel — here  on  this  paper  I  will 
draw  the  plan  of  the  carcel.  Here  is  the  court;  here  the  hall  of  the 


304  GUY  RAYMOND. 

cells ;  here  the  jailer's  quarters ;  here  is  the  plan.     Now,  in  which  cell 
is  the  opening  to  this  secret  passage  ?" 

Miguel  took  the  pencil  and  marked  the  cell.     Then  he  traced  the 
course  of  the  passageway  under  the  court  to  the  hall  in  Bonito's  quar- 
ters, where,  he  informed  Beatrice,  the  other  place  of  exit  was  to  he 
found.     The  eyes  of  Beatrice  glistened  with  satisfaction  as  she  dis- 
missed tha  mozo,  and  her  nervous  excitement  rose  and  fell  as  her 
active  mind  was  swayed  by  the  passion  which  completely  possessed 
her.     She  had  not  known  her  love  until  an  appalling  danger  seemed 
about  to  intervene  to  shut  out  forever  the  light  whose  brilliant  elu- 
cidation but  awaited  the  test  that  was  to  fan  the  already  glowing 
germ.     The  realization  of  imminent  danger  to  him  who  had  for  days 
filled  her  heart  with  those  emotions  peculiar  to  first  love,  emotions 
which  enter  and  abide  with  one,  unquestioned  and  inexplicable,  had 
now  brought  out  the  finer  elements   of  character  whose   possession 
marked  Beatrice  as  a  girl  superior  to  her  environments.     The  warm 
Castillian  blood,  the  conveyancer  of  so  many  charms  in  both  mental 
and  physical  development,  had  been  tempered  by  American  educa- 
tion.    The   contact   with   northern   character   had   blended    self   de- 
pendence with  the  indescribable  graces  and  soft  manners  of  an  ex- 
traction that  engendered  reminiscences  of  the  chivalry  of  Castile  and 
Aragon.     Beatrice   was   now   sure   of   her   position.     She   loved   the 
youth  who  was  all  but  a  stranger,  who  had  appeared  upon  the  horizon 
of  her  affections  to  shed  the  radiance  that  an  uncongenial  environ- 
ment had  failed  to  produce.     It  seemed  to  her  that  a  great  waste, 
replete  with  barrenness,  stretching  out  into  a  dim  vista  of  stunted 
growth  and  arid  temperature,  had  suddenly  assumed  a  garb  of  ver- 
dure, while  the  prespect  changed  to  cool  retreats,  where  limipd  waters 
laved  the  shaded  borders  of  eddying  brooks.     What  wonder,  then, 
that  she  should  be  be  aroused  by  a  sense  of  danger  threatening  the 
existence  of  this  talismanic  change  with  the  prospect  of  a  reversi 
rendered  more  distasteful  from  the  contrast. 

He  whom  she  loved  had  averted  a  danger  to  which  she  had  been 
exposed,  which,  but  for  his  heroism,  would  have  resulted  in  death. 
Yet  it  was  not  for  this  she  loved  him.  The  obligation,  perhaps, 
rendered  her  passion  more  comprehensive.  Now  that  he  was  in 
danger  she  had  the  twofold  purpose  of  love  and  gratitude  to  give 
impetus  to  her  efforts  to  save  him  from  a  pitiless  enemy.  The  f 
tunate  knowledge  possessed  by  Miguel  of  the  secret  passage  thai  e 
isted  in  the  carcel  gave  her  the  power  to  effect  his  escape  without 
the  sympathy  of  the  jailor,  provided  he  could  be  riiviim\rn|p<l  durinir 
his  repose  or  while  off  duty.  Linda  could  be  relied  upon  to  give 


GUY  RAYMOND.  305 

valuable  assistance  in  this  part  of  ili<>  programme.  Limb'  lovecl  him. 
The  sharp  perception  of  a  woman  made  this  apparent,  and  her  esti- 
mation of  the  man  she  loved  \vonld  have  made  her  wonder  that  any 
woman  should  fail  to  love  him.  Full  of  these  thoughts  and  brimming 
with  the  renewed  interest  which  Guy's  danger  had  awakened,  Beatrice 
sought  her  room  that  she  might  uninterruptedly  plot  and  plan  and 
dream. 

CHAPTER  XL11. 

So  soon  as  Josefa  was  left  alone  on  the  evening  that  Ruiz  waited 
for  the  mantle  of  darkness  to  allow  him  to  leave  the  De  la  Torre  V 
house  without  detection,  she  began  to  reproach  herself  for  not  dot  Min- 
ing him  longer.  She  felt  that  Ruiz  had  wronged  her  and  she  blamed 
herself  for  not  having  indulged  still  more  extensively  in  reproaches 
before  allowing  him  to  depart.  She  was  in  a  mood  for  fussing  and 
realized  to  the  fullest  extent,  a  mania  in  which  desperation  points  to 
the  most  unwarranted  actions.  The  unrest  which  seized  her  with 
an  increasing  power  finally  culminated.  A  set  purpose  seemed  to 
possess  her.  She  procured  pencil  and  paper  and  dashed  off  several 
lines  which  she  hurriedly  rend,  then  folded  the  note.  Looking 
through  the  rodded  window,  she  called  to  a  boy  who  stood  in  the  yard 
below  :  "Juan  !  Juan  I" 

In  answer  ho  approached  close  io  the  wall. 

"Take  this  to  the  monle  mo"  she  said,  throwing  the  paper  to  him, 
"and  when  you  return  i  will  give  you  a  real." 

.Josefa  busied  herself  around  her  apartment  as  if  in  preparation 
for  something.  She  stood  before  the  mirror  and  combed  her  short 
hair  over  her  face,  then  parting  it  on  the  side,  she  arranged  it  after  the 
fashion  of  a  cavalier. 

''My  features  will  be  masculine  enough,  with  the  aid  of  dress,  to 
conceal  my  true  sex,  even  from  him." 

These  word/?  were  said  jusi  audibly  as  she  turned  her  bead  from 
side  to  side,  studying  the  effect.  When  she  thought  it  to  be  about  linn1 
for  the  return  of  her  messenger,  she  kept  on  the  lookout  for  him, 
and  before  long  was  rewarded  by  his  appearance  with  a  bundle.  She 
motioned  to  him  to  bring  it  to  the  front  door,  and.  going  down  to  meet 
him.  was  soon  back  with  the  package  inspecting  the  content,-. 

"One  tonto!"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  held  up  a  pair  of  trousers 
that  were  literally  strung  with  glil.lering  ornaments. 

"I  would  not  wear  such  as  these,  for  I  would  be  a  center  of  at- 
tra<  t  ion,"'  she  decided. 

on    furl  her    inspection    she   selected   several   articles   of    nn    - 
apparel  which  seemed  to  suit  better. 


306  GUY  EAYMOND. 

"These  are  more  modest  and  I — believe — will — fit  my  slight  figui 
to  perfection.77 

An  hour  later  Josefa  stood  before  her  glass,  looking  to  be  a  cornel 
Mexican  youth.  Her  hat  sat  jauntily  upon  her  head.  Her  hair, 
short  for  a  woman,  was  but  little  longer  than  the  prescription  of  the 
Mexican  custom  for  the  sterner  sex.  The  well  fitting  round-a-bout 
fell  a  little  below  the  waist,  far  enough  to  well  conceal  a  wide  scarlet 
sash  whose  ends  fell  from  a  knot  over  the  left  hip.  The  pants,  close 
fitting  at  the  belt,  fell  loosely  from  the  lower  limbs  and  extended  far 
over  the  neat  instep,  making  the  narrow  foot  look  only  two-thirds  its 
length.  Thus  attired  Josefa  stole  noiselessly  down  the  steps  and  out 
of  the  front  door  into  the  street.  She  bent  her  steps  to  the  principal 
thoroughfare  and  before  she  had  well  entered  it,  her  gait  became 
steadier  from  reassurance.  She  passed  boldly  on  to  the  bridge  that 
led  to  the  Alameda.  Nothing  occurred  to  more  than  disturb  Josefa  V 
equanimity  until  she  reached  the  bridge  where  the  lights  of  several 
eating  stands  illuminated  the  sidewalk  and  were  reflected  from  the 
walls  of  the  houses.  As  she  paused  here  to  think  about  her  further 
movements,  the  figure  of  a  man  passed  by  and  as  he  turned  his  face 
to  the  lights,  she  recognized  the  features  of  Manuel  Euiz.  Gratified 
at  the  discovery  she  followed  him  over  the  bridge  and  up  the  steep 
embankment  on  the  further  side. 

*     *     * 

The  day  after  Ducio's  interview  with  the  notary  he  had  an  appoint- 
ment at  headquarters,  and  to  meet  it  found  himself  entering  the 
capacious  yard  in  front  of  the  little  building  on  the  river.  He  foui 
the  lieutenant  of  the  staff  and  his  friend  Sancho  in  consultation 
the  back  veranda. 

"Welcome  I"  said  the  lieutenant,  as  Ducio  entered. 

"Buenas  dias,"  said  Sancho. 

"Senors,  I  greet  you,"  said  Ducio,  with  a  smile. 

"Be  seated,  senor.     We  wanted  to  hear  from  you  in  regard  to  thi 
man  Raymond,  whether  you  know  if  he  has  been  communicati] 
with  the  enemy." 

"I  have  every  cause  to  think  so,"  replied  Ducio. 

"Explain,  senor." 

"He  has  friends,  if  not  relatives,  in  the  Texas  camp  and  nmf 
be  in  communication  with  them.     He  knows  of  their  presence  thnr 
and,  judging  from  the  fact  that  he  has  made  no  attempt  to 
T  believe  that  he  remains  here  for  the  purpose  of  communicati] 
information  to  your  enemies." 


GUY  RAYMOND.  307 

"That  would  constitute  him  a  spy." 

"Most  assuredly." 

"Then  he  should  be  shot,"  said  Sancho. 

"Along  with  Ruiz,  whose  case  is  plain,"  said  the  lieutenant. 

"A  sharp  fellow;  he  is  au  fait  with  the  Texan  commanders  and 
took  active  part  at  Concepcion." 

"The  dastardly  traitor,"  said  the  lieutenant. 

"The  murderer  of  Vasquez,"  chimed  in  Sancho. 

"Is  it  certain  that  they  will  be  shot?"  asked  Ducio. 

"You  mean  Ruiz  and  Raymond?" 

"Those  two." 

"Unlucky  R's,"  said  Sancho. 

"Their  fate  is  sealed.  The  order  for  their  execution  will  be  issued 
this  week,"  said  the  lieutenant,  with  a  pompous  air  that  little  accorded 
with  his  sqeaking  voice. 

"The  general  then  has  decided." 

"Yes,  and  the  decision  is  final.  Besides  General  Almonte,  who 
represents  El  Presidente,  has  approved  it  and  will  not  leave  the  city 
until  after  the  execution.  Almonte  says  that  this  Raymond  is  a 
splendid  actor.  He  joined  his  party  on  the  San  dreronimo  and  rep- 
resented that  he  had  just  escaped  from  the  Indians.  Almonte  was 
suspicious  of  him  from  the  first." 

"Has  Almonte  heard  from  Edward  Gritton'?" 

"No.     Doubtless  the  messenger  was  intercepted." 

"And  Gritton?" 

"Will  fare  badly  if  the  dispatches  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  rebels 
But  Gritton's  action  has  served  the  purpose  of  the  government  in  fur- 
nishing the  names  of  the  leaders  to  be  punished,  and  I  suppose  there 
is  little  more  use  for  him.  Spies  run  great  risks." 

"And  should  be  well  paid." 

"A  precept  fulfilled  in  Gritton's  case.  But  there  are  spies  and 
spies.  Some  men  risk  their  lives  in  the  business  for  love  of  country." 

"In  which  case  they  must  be  to  the  manor  born.  Gritton  is  an 
Englishman." 

"An  Englishman.  You  could  not  get  one  of  those  infernal  Texan- 
Americans  to  give  the  government  any  information.  Sancho,  they 
fill  my  ideal  of  the  Spartan  character." 

"They  are  purd  dioMos.  I  will  never  forget  their  obstinacy  at 
Concepcion.  They  have  a  desperate  courage  which  I  class  with  that 
of  pirates.  There  is  no  virtue  in  it." 

"It  serves  the  purpose  at  all  events  and  it  will  require  the  presence 
of  El  Presidente  and  his  legions  to  secure  to  Mexico  this  empire  of 


: 


308  GUY  RAYMOND. 

territory    This  lost  to  us  will  be  but  the  entering  wedge  to  the  dismem- 
berment of  our  country." 

"Is  there  news  from  the  rebel  camp  later  than  that  brought  yoi 
by  this  gentleman  ?"  referring  to  Ducio. 

"Yes.     Their  investment  of  the  place  is  complete.     They  are 
considerable  force  at  the  old  mill  just  above  on  the  river.     A  foraging 
party  from  the  garrison  had  a  brush  with  them  on  the  lower  road  to 
Matamoras." 

"Then  Almonte  will  have  some  trouble  in  eluding  their  pickets. 
If  he  be  captured  on  the  heels  of  the  execution  of  the  two  prisoners 
those  devils  would  resort  to  lex  telionis  measures." 

While  the  lieutenant  and  Sancho  were  thus  discussing  the  mili- 
tary situation  Ducio  remained  silent,  the  words  of  the  pair  having 
just  interest  enough  to  make  their  import  comprehended,  while  he 
mentally  evolved  the  adaptability  of  what  he  heard  to  the  furtherance 
of  the  schemes  matriculated  by  his  late  experience.  Ducio  reflected 
with  no  small  degree  of  satisfaction  on  the  decision  of  the  military 
authority  to  put  to  death  one  of  the  beneficiaries  named  by  Mr.  Trigg 
in  the  disposition  of  the  hidden  treasure.  Not  that  the  execution  of 
Guy  Raymond  would  have  any  direct  bearing  on  his  own  fortunes, 
but  it  seemed  to  him  that  his  removal  would  bo  an  obstacle  loss  to  his 
acquisition  of  the  contents  of  the  iron  pot.  He  had  not  seen  the  sub- 
ject of  his  thoughts,  but  had  hoard  the  story  of  his  capture,  his  escape 
and  of  his  prowess  from  the  lips  of  Ruiz  before  he  left  the  Texan 
camp.  The  mere  existence  of  an  honorable  and  fearless  opponent, 
no  matter  how  passive  ho  may  be  through  ignorance  of  contemplated 
wrongs  or  the  imminence  of  danger,  is  a  power  whose  force  is  mag- 
nified in  the  consciences  of  the  depraved.  So  Ducio  mentally  argued 
that  Guv's  removal  would  by  some  moans  accelerate  his  chances  to  for- 
tune. Mr.  Trigg's  life  depended  from  a  thread  which  a  stray  bullet 
from  a  Mexican  musket  might  snap.  Without  the  papers  neither 
Hamilton  nor  Perry  could  solve  the  riddle  of  the  sand  hills.  The 
notary  was  the  custodian  of  the  secret,  surreptitiously  obtained  and 
with  himself  alone  knew  of  the  existence  of  the  gold  which  "beneath 
the  cross  securely  hid"  awaited  his  coming  to  enrich  him.  The 
notary  must  be  removed  bv  some  moans.  He  could  not  afford  to 
divide  the  treasure  which  luck  had  brought  him;  yos,  brought  him, 
for  it  was  already  within  his  reach  and  it  now  required  but  his  own 
consummate  ability  to  devise  the  means  to  bo  used  and  the  time  io 
act.  Ducio  began  to  wonder  that  other  men  of  npnnroui  intolligonoe 
found  it  so  hard  to  win  fortune.  A  few  hours  h.-id  uol  only  pul 
him  on  the  road  to  wealth,  but  had  disclosed  before  his  -nvdy  ga/ 


rat 

" 


GUY  RAYMOND.  .109 

a  mass  of  yellow  coins  thai  of  itself  constituted  I  he  prize  for  which 
millionaires  struggle  and  toil,  and  to  acquire  it,  use  every  device  known 
to  monopolistic  tactics  and  legalized  depredations.  The  execution  of 
Guy  Raymond  was  favorable.  The  capture  of  General  Almonte  by  I  he 
Texans  through  information  furnished  by  him  would  give  him  per- 
fect freedom  within  the  Texan  lines  with  no  cloud  upon  him  for  liny- 
ing  been  a  brief  sojourner  within  the  lines  of  the  beso.igod  city.  If 
he  should  do  up  the  notary  he  must,  through  prudence,  take  himself 
outside  of  Mexican  jurisdiction  and  drum-head  decisions.  While 
the  swift  justice  of  the  authorities  excited  his  admiration  in  the  cases 
of  the  two  prisoners,  its  rigor  was  clear  and  alarming  when  it  proposed 
to  be  the  adjudicator  of  his  own  transgressions.  Ducio's  frails  and 
tendencies  were  only  the  world's  emphasized.  Inductively  examined, 
their  germs  will  be  discovered  where  duty  and  patriotism  have  heon 
rendered  comatose  by  infusions  of  false  ideas  in  the  problems  of  social 
life,  to  the  destruction  of  its  true  aims,  to  the  subversion  of  human 
happiness,  to  the  communism  of  class.  To  Ducio  the  modern  soon  I 
drift  was  apparent.  The  science  of  government  had  been  prostituted 
by  the  complete  ascendency  of  the  properly  idea  over  individual  rights. 
Acquisitiveness  had  so  completely  developed  in  the  cranium  of  the 
genius  of  civilization  that  the  well  being  of  humanity  had  shrivelled 
into  comparative  vacuity.  In  Ducio's  conception  he  had  accentuated 
the  social  tendency  by  taking  shorter  cuts  to  fortune.  I  Jobbery  is 
robbery  under  any  guise.  It  may  lie  qualified  by  prefixes  to  save  the 
qualms  of  a  pharisaical  conscience,  or  it'  rnav  masquerade  in  fictions 
of  legislation,  yet  the  essence  is  there.  Land  illegally  hold  in  Mort- 
main became  to  grasping  churchman  legal  and  lucrative  in  trust. 
Men  often  grow  rich  through  murder;  it  may  be  of  an  individual, 
or  it  may  be  of  the  masses.  Tn  the  latter  case  it  is  always  legal  and, 
therefore,  respectable  with  perhaps  only  a  score  of  economists  protest- 
ing against  doing  by  wholesale  what  is  infamous  by  retail.  Elastic 
minds  reconcile  the  brigandage  of  class  with  honesty  and  plead  custom 
to  refute  the  logic  of  nature  and  humanitarianism.  Ducio,  rascal  as 
he  was,  had  a  supreme  contempt  for  those  lights  of  civil i/at ion  who 
upheld  the  depredations  of  class  and  in  the  same  breath  denounced 
the  individual  robber.  He  deemed  it  to  be  many  degrees  braver  to 
incur  the  risk  of  a  direct  appropriation  of  the  goods,  chattels  and 
money  of  an  individual  without  the  cloak  of  a  logislntivo  act  or  the 
pursuance  of  an  arbitrary  and  unnatural  custom.  He  believed  that 
the  wrong  which  would  crush  thousands  was  proportionately  greater 
ffnn  that  which  would  injure  an  individual.  Ducio,  however,  was  a 
character  who  stood  not  upon  the  distinctions  when  the  opportunity 


presented  itself  to  transfer  the  shekels  of  another  to  the  pockets  oJ 
Ducio.  With  a  little  training  he  would  have  made  a  star  in  Wall 
street.  In  the  lobby  or  in  the  halls  of  legislation  he  would  have  left 
the  imprint  of  his  peculiar  talent  on  the  class  legislation  of  a  political 
system  intended  to  be  a  model  for  the  imitation  of  mankind  in  the 
construction  of  governments  looking  primarily  to  the  freedom  of  rights 
and  equality  of  the  people.  Ducio  recognized  the  truths  enunciated 
by  political  economists,  but  it  was  like  the  knowledge  which  the  tra- 
ditional Satan  has  of  the  beneficience  and  power  of  the  Ruler  of  the 
universe.  Satan  prefers  the  unrest  of  Hades  and  grim  satisfaction 
of  the  exercise  of  an  evil  power  to  the  joys  of  Heaven  or  the  peace  of 
Nirvana.  Ducio  thought  his  selfishness  would  be  better  subserved  with 
the  economies  safe  in  the  custody  of  the  colleges  and  universities. 
Like  Christian  ethics,  social  and  political  economy  were  things  to  be 
preached  and  read  about  but  too  antagonistic  to  the  present  civiliza- 
tion to  be  practiced.  Therefore  Ducio  scoffed  at  the  teachings  of 
moralists  and  economists,  and  in  a  species  of  suave  qni  pent  rush  for 
the  smiles  of  fortune,  lie  determined  to  take  the  short  cuts  and  trust 
to  secrecy  of  movement  to  save  him  from  the  clutches  of  the  law. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

Ruiz,  who  had  kept  upon  Ducio  Halfen's  trail  since  the  latter 
quitted  the  Cabeza  de  Toro  in  pursuit  of  the  notary,  followed  him 
the  same  night  to  the  house  of  that  functionary.  Concealed  behind 
the  apartment  he  witnessed  the  interview  between  the  two  worthies 
from  the  rear  window  and  heard  most  of  their  conversation.  He 
gleaned  the  fact  that  a  compromise  had  been  effected  between  them 
regarding  the  paper  dropped  on  the  gambling  table.  He  inferred 
that  they  had  a  key  to  the  treasure  to  which  Guy  had  some  claim, 
but  he  could  not  make  it  clear  to  himself  what  it  could  be.  It  ap- 
peared evident  that  Ducio  had  had  access  to  some  treasure  from  the 
number  of  doubloons  he  had  displayed  at  the  monte  table.  He  could 
see  in  Ducio's  manner  and  read  in  his  looks  a  danger  to  the  notary 
which  the  latter  did  not  appear  to  realize.  When  the  two  separated 
Ruiz  resolved  to  keep  watch  on  the  movements  of  the  wily  Creole. 
When  he  quitted  his  post  as  eaves-dropper,  he  climbed  a  low  wall  and 
found  himself  in  a  short  alley  conned  ing  Acequia  and  Soledad  streets. 
As  he  made  his  way  to  the  former,  so  as  to  enter  the  plaza  at  a 
different  point  from  Ducio,  tho  figure  of  a  man  appeared  and  lo<>1«>d 
over  the  wall  at  the  other's  retreating  form.  He  sprang  lightly  over 
and  followed  Ruiz  to  the  plaza.  Here  the  unknown  stopped  and 


GUY  BAYMOND.  311 

leaned  lightly  against  the  massive  masonry  of  the  corner  until  the  re- 
treating figure  was  lost  in  the  direction  of  the  Candelario's. 

"Well,  senor  Don  Manuel  Ruiz,  you  are  a  puzzle.  What  your  pur- 
pose here  is  I  am  not  able  to  say.  Gambling  and  eaves-dropping  are 
no  clear  pointers  to  your  mission." 

Such  was  the  exclamation  made  in  an  undertone  by  the  young  man 
with  tho  scarlet  sash  who  had  been  following  Rniz  as  he  left  his  po- 
sition at  the  corner  of  the  plaza  and  turned  up  towards  Flores  street. 

"That  was  a  handsome  Frenchman,"  he  mused,  "and  Ruiz  was 
watching  him.  He  had  a  deal  of  money.  Is  perhaps  rich.  What 
can  Manuel-  have  to  do  with  him?  I  saw  him  once  before  while  I 
was  entering  Linda's  gate.  Such  piercing  eyes!  They  say  mine  arc 
that  way.  Dios!  What  a  pair  we'd  make!" 

J  A ud  /lose fa  entered  her  door. 
Josefa's  escapade  of  the  night  before  could  not  have  produced 
any  remorse  of  conscience  in  the  bosom  of  that  erratic  damsel  on 
a  review  of  her  violation  of  the  proprieties,  if  indeed  she  took  the 
trouble  to  reflect  on  the  subject  or  to  estimate  the  consequences,  if 
anv  there  might  have  been,  in  the  event  of  detection.  One  thing  is 
certain,  that  when  she  first  recognized  Ruiz  at  the  bridge,  she  took 
care  io  keep  him  in  sight  or  hailing  distance  until  she  turned  her 
steps  homeward.  Whatever  might  have  been  her  doubts  of  her  old 
lover,  she  had  that  confidence  in  his  manhood  to  be  sure  that  no 
one  could  have  insulted  her  with  impunity  while  in  the  radius  of 
his  protection.  This  reflection  may  have  upheld  the  girl  in  any 
nisgivings  that  chanced  to  well  up  unbidden,  to  deter  her  from  a 
successful  prosecution  of  her  espoinage.  She  had  accomplished  noth- 
ing towards  the  solution  of  Ruiz's  mission,  if  that  was  her  object, 
ff>r  an  honest  inquiry  into  her  own  intentions  would  have  disclosed 
a  mental  stair-  in  which  jealousy  and  a  discontent  with  her  present 
humdrum  existence  were  kept  astir  by  a  nature  full  of  high-strung 
amhition.  Rui/  was  not  a  necessity  to  her,  yet  she  felt  the  influence 
of  the  old  lie,  while  she  half  hated  him  because  he  had  failed  to 
prove  the  instrument  which  was  to  dispel  the  cloud  hanging  over 
her  life.  Her  facile  heart  was  ready  to  acknowledge  any  helpmeet 
who  would  promise  to  guide  her  in  the  life-paths,  free  from  the 
restraint,  of  certain  influences  repugnant  to  her  nature.  The  piercing 
eves  of  the  Krench man  whom  she  knew  not  had  made  an  impression 
on  her  waxen  heart,  and  their  owner  would  have  only  to  follow  up 
the  advantage  by  a.  show  of  dash  and  means,  to  win  for  himself  the 
ambitious  daughter  of  the  |)c  la  Torres.  Josefa's  thoughts  pursued 
this  very  channel  from  the  time  of  her  awaking  until  an  hour 


rUY 

later  she  arose  to  make  her  toilet.  This  she  did  with  all  the  indo- 
lence of  leisure,  until  her  tardiness  invoked  a  call  to  the  morning 
meal.  A  little  later  a  note  from  the  lieutenant,  requesting  permis- 
sion to  bring  a  friend  to  see  her,  was  handed  her.  Josefa's  eye- 
hrows  arched,  as  she  road,  in  wonder  .-is  to  who  the  unknown  caller 
was  to  be.  She  knew  all  the  gentlemen  of  the  city  who  would  likely 
be  friends  of  the  writer.  It  could  not  he  Almonte,  who  was  married. 
It  suddenly  flashed  upon  her  mind  that  it  might  be  the  stranger 
with  those  piercing  eyes.  She  had  been  told  he  was  a  Frenchman. 
What  matter?  Nationality  is  nothing.  Push,  impudence  and  means. 
They  were  sufficient  for  the  attainment  of  the  ne  plus  ultra  of 
modern  ambition.  They  wore  Ihr  triune  elements  whence  were 
formed  the  materials  of  fortune  to  be  acquired  without  the  efforts 
and  the  humiliations  of  labor.  The  Frenchman  was  apparently  in 
antagonism  with  Ruiz.  He  was  welcome  at  headquarters,  which  had 
set  a  price  on  Manuel's  head.  The  favorite  had  been  watched  by 
i'ho  fugitive  at  the  gambling  resort  where  the  former  had  lovst,  with 
apparently  small  regret,  so  much  money.  Ruiz  was  not  rich,  and 
his  treason  to  his  country  would  impoverish  him.  The  sharp  French- 
man must  be  well  off,  and  besides — 

Josefa,  did  not  conclude  her  thought  definitely,  but  allowed  her 
imagination  to  revel  in  conclusions,  enveloping  the  dark  stranger  in 
a  mysticism  of  character  whose  blending  lights  and  shadows  reflected 
the  varying  bents  of  her  own  ephemeral  purposes. 

She  was  not  disappointed,  when  her  two  callers  were  announced, 
to  find  thai  one  of  them  was  Ducio  Halfen.  The  latter  had  been 
no  loss  stricken  by  the  appeamnce  of  Josefa  than  she  was  by  the 
easy  carriage  and  flashing  eyes  of  the  Creole.  A  report  of  the  lady's 
prospects,  exaggerated  if  not  untrue,  caused  him  to  construe  them 
as  worthy  of  the  aspirations  of  an  unprincipled  adventurer  like  him- 
self and  with  the  idea  uppermost  in  his  mind  he  sought  an  acquaint- 
ance with  her  through  the  instrumentality  of  his  military  friend  of 
the  staff.  The  meeting  between  the  two,  from  its  inception,  lacked 
the  stiffness  that  frequently  characterizes  the  first  encounters  of  the 
-CMS  where  a  suspicion  of  interest  or  design  has  either  mutually  or 
singly  existed  in  the  minds  of  the  parties.  On  the  part  of  Josefa 
this  arose  from  her  natural  self-command  and  art  in  acting.  With. 
Ducio  it  was  from  an  innate  impudence  and  lack  of  any  touches  of 
refinement  calculated  to  rebuke  evil  purposes  or  excite  trepidation. 
Conscience-  he  had  none.  The  call  extended  longer  than  interviews 
of  such  a  preliminary  nature  usually  last,  and  when  Ducio  left  he 


«T 


GUY  RAYMOND.  313 

promised  to  return  again  in  the  afternoon  for  a  walk.    The  lieu- 
tenant was  ignored  in  the  arrangement. 

In  the  afternoon  the  engagement  for  the  walk  was  fulfilled. 
Josef  a 's  knowledge  of  the  city  and  its  environs  constituted  her  the 
guide  for  the  occasion.  They  followed  the  banks  of  the  river  until 
the  line  of  pickets  intercepted  their  further  progress  towards  its  source; 
then  crossing  a  rude  footbridge,  they  traversed  the  fields  until  the 
Alamo,  with  its  weather-beaten  walls,  rose  boldly  into  view. 

"Would  you  like  to  take  a  look  at  the  country  from  the  top  of 
the  Alamo?"  she  asked  of  Ducio. 

'I   should   like  it  extremely  well,"  he  replied.     "And  we   may 
a  sight  of  the  Texans,  Avho  are  said  to  be  much  nearer  town, 
at  an  old  mill  just  above  on  the  river." 

"You  said  you  were  in  their  company  for  a  while,  before  entering 
here.  Are  they  the  terrible  characters  that  we  hear  described?" 

hey  are  devils  to  fight.  As  to  character,  they  represent  every 
of  life,  the  farmer,  the  doctor,  the  lawyer,  the  mechanic,  the 
merchant,  the  clerk  and  the  adventurer,  and  of  course  are  made  up 
of  good,  bad  and  indifferent  men  like  one  will  find  among  all  such 
gatherings  of  humanity." 

They  reached  the  church  in  a  short  time  and  by  a  rather  difficult 
ascent  found  themselves  upon  the  walls  of  the  edifice  which  was  des- 
tined so  soon  to  become  famous  throughout  the  world  as  the  Ther- 
mopolae  of  America,  reserving  for  itself  a  distinction  which  in  later 
years  a  patriotic  Texan  expressed  in  the  memorable  words: 

Kriiermopolae  had  her  messenger  of  defeat — the  Alamo  had  none." 
o  the  north  the  course  of  the  river  was  marked  by  a  line  of 
timber.  Chaparral,  denuded  of  foliage,  stood  in  clusters  or  extended 
in  stretches  with  alternations  of  openings  in  which  the  grass  still 
showed  spots  of  green  among  the  gray  and  taller  growth.  There 
Y..IS  a,  sleepy  look  in  the  prospect.  The  background  of  hills  raised 
their  blue  summits  in  successive  ranges  until  the  whole  was  capped 
by  the  rocky  elevation  whose  tree-clad  summit  marked  the  spot  where 
the  swift  running  Olmus  burst  suddenly  from  its  limestone  prison, 
to  run  its  short  course  through  glassy  lakes  and  eddying  pools,  rip- 
pling rapids  and  winding  currents,  until  its  crystal  \\aters  were  lost 
in  those  of  the  San  Antonio.  The  old  mil]  which  the  Texans  were 
i (-ported  to  have  occupied  was  just  visible  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
liver.  A  horse  or  two  just  beyond,  a  faint  indication  of  smoke  a 
shado  heavier  than  the  hazy  atmosphere,  were  the  sole  inductions 
presenting  themselves  to  the  vision,  to  show  that  the  rebel  Tex-ms 


314  GUY  RAYMOND. 

were  in  the  vicinity.  To  the  left  and  west  lay  the  town  a  materialized 
monotony  of  low  walls,  with  occasional  reliefs  of  adobe  and  tul( 
where  stood  the  jacals  of  the  poorer  class.  Ducio  asked  half  inquir- 
ingly : 

"In  your  Monterey  home  you  had  finer  scenery  than  this  ?" 
"Oh,  there  it  is  grand;  the  city  is  in  the  very  lap  of  the  moun- 
tains.    All  around   they  lift  their  great  heads  towering   far   above 
the  valley,  while  their  sides  are  a  picture  of  perpetual  green." 

"You  would  like  to  return  to  a  place  doubtless  filled  with  memo- 
ries as  pleasant  as  the  scenery  is  grand — would  you  not  ?" 
"Yes,  but— 
"But?" 

"I  would  not  return  alone.  My  relatives  are  few,  confined  in 
fact,  to  a  mother  and  uncle,  and  they  are  not  congenial." 

"Not  congenial  ?" 

"Both  are  good  to  me — both  are  bigots,  and  move  in  the  narrow 
sphere  circumscribed  by  the  rigor  and  rules  of  the  church.  I  crave 
liberty  at  any  cost.  I  would  rise  above  all  restraint,  all  rules,  all 
conventionalities,  and  live  the  life  best  suited  to  the  happiness  of 
beings  who  know  no  future  existence  and  believe  that  they  are  here 
with  the  full  right  to  employ  all  the  traits,  which  distinguish  them 
from  the  lower  animals,  for  their  gratification  and  pleasure." 

"You  then  stand  in  need  of  a  friend.  My  ideas  run  in  the  same 
grooves.  Could  we  be  friends?" 

"Why  not?" 

"There  may  be  barriers.  For  instance,  my  stay  here  is  limited. 
Two  more  suns  may  not  see  me  in  Bexar." 

"So  soon?" 

"Yes,  business  calls  me  away.  To  linger  here  might  cost  me  a 
fortune,  although  I  might  win  the  prize  of  your  friendship." 

"You  have  been  left  some  property?" 

"Yes — no — not  by  will  or  legacy,  but  my  presence  elsewhere  will 
bring  me  to  a  fortune,  that  I  could  not  realize  or  secure  by  a  delay 
of  many  more  days  in  this  queer  city." 

"You  would  be  unwise  to  delay  your  going  in  that  case — but, 
senor — you  may  return  and  then — and  then — 

"And  then?" 

"We  could  be  friends." 

"And  go  to  Monterey?" 

Josefa  looked  away  as  if  at  a  loss  to  answer. 

"To  Monterey  or  elsewhere  if " 

"Well?" 


j. 
"  A 

I 


GUY  RAYMOND.  315 

"If  I  were  free  to  go  and  you  desired  to  go  with  me." 

Ducio  would  have  replied  if  a  noise  had  not  claimed  their  atten- 
tion. It  was  the  step  of  Father  Ignacio,  who  seeing  Josefa  in  com- 
pany with  a  stranger,  while  he  was  passing,  mounted  to  the  top  of 
the  building. 

"It  is  my  uncle,"  said  Josefa  in  an  undertone. 

"The  priest!"  exclaimed  Ducio. 

"The  priest,"  said  Father  Ignacio  in  a  tone  of  reply. 

And  he  continued: 

"You  are  sight-seeing,  Josefa?  And  who  is  this  gentleman,  your 
escort?" 

"I  am  rather  his  escort,  uncle.  This  is  Senor  Half  en,  a  stranger 
whose  acquaintance  I  have  made.  Senor  Halfen,  this  is  Father 
Ignacio." 

The  men  bowed. 

"I  have  heard  of  you  Father." 

nd  I  of  you,  sir.     You  are  the  Frenchman." 
have  a  French  passport." 

t  is  all  the  same,  senor,  but-  tell,  me  how  is  it  that  you  make 
Senor  Raymond  a  spy?" 

"Those  are  my  suspicions." 

"But,  my  dear  senor,  he  is  not.  He  entered  San  Antonio  with 
me,  just  escaped  from  Indian  captivity,  and  did  not  even  know  that 
there  was  trouble  between  Mexico  and  the  colonists.  I  am  afraid, 
senor,  that  you  have  done  a  great  injury  to  a  young  man  whom  I 
have  found  to  be  the  soul  of  honor.  Even  my  influence  cannot 
change  the  attitude  of  the  authorities  towards  him,  and  your  evidence 
is  counted  strongly  against  him." 

Father  Ignacio  spoke  with  feeling,  for  being  a  true  type  of  honor- 
able manhood,  he  despised  the  malignity  that  prompted  persecution 
of  innocence. 

Ducio  replied : 

"I  gave  my  views  in  his  case  not  voluntarily.  I  merely  replied 
to  questions  and  .what  I  stated  was  my  consciencious  opinion.  I  do 
not  care  to  be  lectured  upon  the  subject  and  trust  your  reverence  will 
take  the  hint." 

"Your  impudence  does  not  match  your  nationality.  French  gen- 
tlemen are  usually  respectful  to  priests." 

"Let  us  go,  Senorita  De  la  Torre.  I  would  not  let  this  grow  into 
a  quarrel,"  said  Ducio. 

"It  will  not  be  a  quarrel,  senor,  for  I  am  going  myself.  Josefa, 
you  have  congenial  company  I  perceive.  I  congratulate  you." 


316  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"Thank  you,  uncle,"  she  replied   ironically.     Then  in   a  kind 
tone,  as  if  to  bridge  over  the  situation,  she  continued: 

"But  where  have  you  been  out  this  way?     You  positively  I 
fatigued." 

"Oh!  My  major  domo,  Jose,  has  disappeared  and  is  not  to 
found  inside  of  the  lines.  It  is  certainly  a  mystery.  Between  his 
disappearance  and  Senor  Raymond's  trouble,  I  have  had  no  peace  of 
mind.  I  have  exhausted  my  fund  of  influence  and  now  I  have  but 
one  recourse,  and  that  is  to  my  God.  If  prayers  and  masses  will 
avail,  not  a  hair  of  this  gentle  youth  shall  be  harmed.  I  feel  sure 
that  God's  power  will  avert  the  danger  which  menaces  him.  He  is 
a  noble  youth,  Josefa." 

Josefa's  reflections  were  multitudinous  when  she  found  herself 
at  home  again  alone.  Her  companion  of  the  walk  was  sympathetic 
and  her  uncle  had  dubbed  him  a  congenial  one.  There  was  much 
truth  in  his  remark  and  it  eminently  fitted  her  previous  declaration 
to  Ducio  that  she  desired  a  congenial  friend.  This  Halfen  had  an 
external  respectability  that  would  meet  the  requirements  of  society. 
His  principles  might  be  anything,  all  the  better  if  they  were  anti- 
religious,  so  far  as  she  was  concerned.  The  cloud  over  his  possesssion 
of  gold  which  Manuel's  musings  had  raised  had  not  been  cleared 
away  by  his  explanation  that  he  must  leave  Bexar  to  secure  his  expec- 
tancy. If  wealth  was  to  be  his  or  if  he  had  it  already  secured,  by 
fair  means  or  foul,  que  importa,  society  would  not  stop  to  inquire 
before  extending  its  hand.  If  her  uncle  had  not  interrupted  their 
quiet  tete-a-tete  on  the  top  of  the  old  mission,  much  of  the  unce 
tainty  as  to  their  future  might  have  been  dissipated  by  the  utteran 
of  a  few  more  words.  How  much  better  was  Guy  Raymond  than 
Ducio  Halfen?  His  honor  had  landed  him  in  jail.  Ducio  was  free, 
and  fortune  was  extending  to  him  her  arms.  She  did  not  begrudge 
him  a  tithe  of  the  help  to  be  expected  from  the  mumblings  of  the 
mass  or  the  telling  of  beads.  She  would  not  utter  an  Ave,  even  if 
it  could  save  him,  save  him  to  Beatrice  Navarre. 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 


fvrsis- 


Ruiz  had  kept  upon  the  trail  of  Ducio  Halfen  with  such  persis 
tency  that  he  was  perfectly  posted  as  to  his  movements.  He  had 
detected  the  sudden  acquaintance  and  growing  intimacy  between  him 
and  Josefa,  but  of  course  he  was  at  a  loss  to  know  what  transpire 
at  their  interviews.  In  forty-eight  hours  they  were  together  fo 


:: 


GUY  RAYMOND.  317 

times,  and  he  believed  that  no  good  result  would  follow  in  the  steps 
of  his  old  fiancee.  He  had  been  disappointed  in  his  calculations  for 
assistance  from  the  Texan  camp  to  carry  out  his  part  of  the  pro- 
gramme that  had  brought  him  to  the  city.  He  had  communicated 
his  readiness  twice  through  paid  messengers,  to  co-operate  with  the 
promised  aid,  yet  the  assurance  of  its  coming  had  failed  to  reach 
him.  He  was  at  great  risk  of  detection,  which  was  only  deferred 
by  reason  of  the  mistaken  identity  which  was  costing  Jose  his  liberty. 
One  night,  it  was  the  third  after  Ducio's  interview  with  the  notary, 
Euiz  discovered  the  Creole  passing  along  the  east  side  of  the  plaza, 
and  supposing  that  his  destination  was  the  house  of  the  De  la 
Torres  he  followed  him.  The  so-called  Frenchman  moved  with  an 
apparent  caution  that  had  not  been  characteristic  of  his  manner  on 
any  previous  occasion,  while  under  the  surveillance  of  Ruiz.  His 
entrance  into  Soledad  street  banished  the  first  idea  in  Ruiz's  mind 
that  Ducio  contemplated  a  visit  to  Josef  a,  but  he  felt  sure  now  that 
the  notary  was  to  be  honored  by  an  interview  with  his  confederate 
in  the  mystery  of  the  paper.  A  minute  later  this  was  verified  by 
Ducio's  light  rap  at  the  door  of  the  notary,  who  presently  atmitted 
him.  Ruiz  began  to  deliberate  on  the  advisability  of  playing  eaves- 
dropper, feeling  half  ashamed  of  the  role.  But  it  was  evident  that 
the  villains  were  bent  on  some  mischief,  and  as  Guy  Raymond  ap- 
peared interested  in  some  manner,  he  finally  concluded  to  prosecute 
the  espionage  in  the  hope  to  serve  his  friend.  Accordingly  he  gained, 
by  easy  steps,  his  old  position  at  the  rear  window,  and  through  a 
small  aperture  left  by  the  fold  of  an  improvised  curtain  he  had  a 
pretty  good  survey  of  the  room.  Halfen's  face  was  fully  visible  as 
he  sat  opposite  the  notary,  who  only  disclosed  a  side  view  as  he  occa- 
sionally moved  his  head.  Their  tones  were  low  at  first  and,  from 
the  catches  that  reached  the  listener's  ears,  were  on  commonplace 
topics,  foreign  to  the  undoubted  purpose  of  the  interview.  Once  he 
caught  the  name  of  Josef  a  accompanied  by  a  rascally  expressive  smile 
on  Ducio's  physiognomy.  Finally  the  conversation  became  more  earn- 
est and  serious,  and  erstwhile  a  whole  sentence  would  reward  Manuel's 
patience.  This  came  from  Ducio: 

"But  as  to  the  division,  my  friend,  that  must  depend  upon  the 
amount  of  trouble  and  risk  *  *  *  *" 

This  from  the  notary: 

"But  the  papers  must  remain  in  my  possession"  *  *  *  *  "They 
are  my  security."  *  *  *  * 

Ducio  demanded  the  papers  of  the  notary  for  inspection,  but 
the  latter  was  positive  in  his  declination  to  accede  to  it. 


318  GUY  RAYMOND. 


nd  he 


"You  should  be  satisfied/7  he  insisted. 

Finally  Ducio  agreed  to  all  the  notary  insisted  upon,  and 
assumed  an  accommodating  air  until  he  rose  to  depart.  He  held  out 
his  hand,  which  the  notary  took,  and  things  appeared  to  be  smoothed 
over  between  the  confederates.  At  his  caller's  'request  the  notary 
proceeded  to  let  him  out  in  the  street.  In  doing  so  he  turned  his 
back  to  Ducio,  who,  seizing  the  opportunity,  struck  him  on  the  head 
with  something  that  felled  him  to  the  floor.  The  assassin  lost  no 
time  in  repeating  his  deadly  blows  upon  the  prostrate  form  of  his 
victim.  The  execution  of  the  deed  required  but  an  instant.  The 
wretch  stood  over  his  fallen  partner  in  crime  a  moment,  then  stoop- 
ing, went  through  his  pockets.  The  contents  he  examined  by  the 
light  on  the  table,  casting  now  and  then  furtive  glances  at  the  win- 
dows. Finally  he  gave  vent  to  an  exclamation  of  satisfaction  as  he 
finished  the  examination  of  a  paper. 

"This  is  the  document,"  he  said.     "And  now  I  will  be  gone." 

Hastily  extinguishing  the  light,  he  made  his  way  out  of  the  front 
door  and  stole  cautiously  down  the  street. 

Ruiz  was  amazed  at  what  he  had  witnessed  and  half  regretted  that 
he  did  not  rush  to  the  notary's  assistance.  But  he  was  in  the  city 
incognito  and  it  would  have  been  folly  to  have  so  acted.  Besides, 
both  parties  were  conspirators,  and  he  felt  that  retributive  justice 
would  yet  overtake  the  murderer.  Dangerous  as  it  was,  he  could  not 
refrain  from  entering  the  office  to  view  the  body  and  see  if  life  was 
extinct.  So  noiseless  had  been  the  whole  proceeding  that  no  cry  was 
uttered  and  save  the  thud  which  came  from  the  fall  of  the  light  form 
of  the  victim,  nothing  had  been  heard  to  indicate  an  altercation  ir 
the  interview  so  amicably  begun.  The  real  danger  then,  which  Manuel 
could  apprehend,  would  be  from  a  chance  discovery  of  his  presence 
in  a  compromising  position  and  the  circumstance  used  as  potential- 
evidence  of  his  complicity.  An  arrest  would  also  lead  to  his  identi- 
fication, which  should  have  really  constituted  his  cause  for  alarm. 
At  any  rate,  he  did  not  allow  himself  time  for  reflection  on  these 
subjects,  but  soon  found  himself  in  the  room  and  darkness.  This 
was  a  dilemma.  He  however  felt  around  for  the  body,  which  he  care- 
fully manipulated  to  discover  any  signs  of  life.  No  respiration — no 
pulse.  The  repose  of  the  limp  form  was  the  repose  of  death.  The 
head  had  received  the  fatal  blow.  Through  the  crushed  skull  the 
life  blood  still  flowed  upon  the  floor,  forming  a  pool  into  which 
Manuel  accidentally  placed  the  fingers  of  his  hand.  He  withdrew 
them  with  a  shudder  and  was  careful  to  avoid  getting  upon  his  shoes 
or  -clothing  the  red  evidence  of  crime.  This  Ducio  Half  en  was 


GUY  RAYMOND.  319 

criminal  of  the  worst  type,,  lie  thought,  as  lie  wended  his  way  along 
the  street.  What  terrible  company  was  such  a  man  for  a  female  of 
gentle  birth,  or  with  any  claims  to  virtuous  womanhood.  He  thought 
of  Josef  a  and  her  intimacy  with  the  fiend  who  had  just  taken  human 
life  for  the  possession  of  a  piece  of  paper.  Bonito's  name  had  been 
thrice  mentioned  in  connection  with  this  business,  as  was  also  Guy 
Raymond's.  Would  it  not  be  well  to  apprise  the  jailer?  Full  of 
this  last  idea  Ruiz  turned  towards  the  carcel.  No--- there  was  the 
sentinel  pacing  his  post,  an  obstacle  in  the  way.  He  would  enter 
by  Linda's  garden.  It  was  late,  but  the  business  was  urgent.  Before 
he  realized  it  he  was  at  the  door  in  the  wall.  It  was  locked.  The 
wall  was  high,  but  he  would  try  it.  Placing  his  hand  upon  the  exten- 
sion of  the  low  arch,  he  gave  one  vigorous  spring  and  caught  the  top 
of  the  wall  with  the  other.  A  few  scrambles  and  he  bestrided  it 
almost  out  of  breath  with  the  exertion.  He  let  himself  down  into 
the  garden  and  approaching  the  door  of  the  apartment  he  hesitated. 
The  thinly  curtained  window  disclosed  a  light-  within.  Linda  had 
not  retired — so  much  the  better.  His  light  knock  sounded  strangely 
distinct  in  the  quiet  of  the  night.  The  footsteps  he  heard  just  before 
hi-  summons  at  once  ceased.  Was  Linda  frightened?  He  would 
not  knock  again.  He  called: 

"Linda!    Linda!" 

"Quien  es?" 

"Yo— Manuel— Manuel  Ruiz." 

Purely  the  voice  "of  Manuel/'  she  replied,   "but  Manuel  is  in 
ill." 

"Escaped,  however.     Deja,  me  entrar." 

"What  would  you  here  this  time  of  night?  A  fugitive  from  my 
father  would  find  a  poor  asylum  with  his  daughter." 

"You  should  know,  Linda,  that  I  mean  well.  Your  father's 
in  erestfe,  perhaps  his  life,  may  depend  upon  my  seeing  you  this  night. 
Abra  la  puerta," 

The  door  just  cracked  a  little  and  when  Linda  had  ocular  proof 
of  Ruiz's  identity  it  opened  and  the  caller  crossed  the  threshold. 

"What,  Manuel!     Blood  on  your  hands!" 

"True,  the  stains  are  there  yet.  A  little  water,  Linda,  and  I 
will  remove  the  traces." 

As  Ruiz  cleaned  his  hands  in  'Linda's  basin  he  exacted  of  her 
a  promise  of  secrecy  as  to  his -visit  and  in  regard  to  whatever  he 
might,  impart.  He  then  seated  himself  and  recounted  what  he  had 
witnessed  at  the  notary's  office,  together  with  all  that  he  knew  of 
the  existence  and  character  of  the  document  causing  the  homicide. 


320  GUY  EAYMOND. 

Linda  knew  nothing  definite  of  Bonito's  business.     He  was  o: 
with  the  notary,  who  attended   to  all  papers  requiring  attestation 
besides  giving  her  father  the  benefit  of  his  legal  attainments.     Whi 
the  two  were  imparting  to  each  other  all  they  knew  in  regard 
Bonito's  danger  on  the  one  hand  and  his  habits  on  the  other,  Manu 
had  several  times  heard  a  shuffling  noise  in  the  hall,  not  unlike  the 
jailer's  steps,  but  more  labored,  as  if  he  were  experiencing  some  diffi- 
culty in  his  movements. 

This  finally  aroused  Ruiz's  curiosity. 

"Is  that  your  father  in  the  hall?" 

Linda,  looked  troubled,  and  it  was  a  moment  before  she  replied: 

"Father  has  locked  me  in  here  to  conceal  his  work.  He  has  been 
busy,  repeatedly  passing  back  and  forth,  as  you  have  heard,  since 
dark." 

"What  can  it  mean?" 

"I  cannot  say.  Oh,  Manuel!  He  is  a  strange  man.  He  loves 
money  and  saves  every  centado.  That  he  has  money  hid  away  I  am 
certain,  but  he  has  hinted  that  he  has  been  robbed,  and  I  believe 
right  now  he  is  making  some  disposition  of  his  treasure,  to  better 
conceal  it." 

"Robbed  lately?" 

"Just  four  days  ago." 

"For  Dios !     The  Frenchman." 

"He  who  murdered —  —  ?" 

"Lo  mismo." 

"That  accounts  for  the  gold  lost  at  the  Cabeza  de  Toro." 

"You'd  make  a  nice  little  detective,  Linda." 

"But  you  spoke  of  Senor  Raymond,  Manuel." 

"They  intimated  that  he  must  be  put  out  of  the  way,  but  exp 
the  authorities  to  attend  to  that." 

"But,  Manuel " 

Linda's  voice  was  strong  in  protest,  her  eyes  suffused  with  tea 
and  her  head  sank  forward  as  her  extended  hand  touched  the  shoulder 
of  her  friend. 

"I  know  what  you  would  say,  Linda,     We  all  love  him  and  if 
there  be  any  virtue  in  human  effort  after  every  available  influen 
has  been  exhausted  without  effect,  he  shall  not  meet  the  death  se 
tence  of  these  miserable  tyrants.     Linda,  we  may  ask  your  passi 
assistance." 

"My  assistance?     I  would  do  much  to  save  him.     I  am  a  frail 
woman,  it  is  true,  but  I  have  the  will  to  serve  him  that  would  mate 
the  strength  of  giants.     Oh!     Manuel,  I  am  not  ashamed  to  say 


11 

• 


GUY  RAYMOND.  321 

love  him — that  I  love  him  without  one  act  of  his  to  encourage  the 
affection." 

"He  is  a  lucky  fellow.  Yet  again  unlucky,  for  it  is  little  less 
than  murder  to  blight  the  love  of  a  woman." 

"It  is  no  fault  of  his,  Manuel,  to  know  him  is  to  love  him." 

"Then  tomorrow  night,  if  I  and  others  seek  your  aid  to  free 
Guy  Eaymond,  you  will  freely  give  it?" 

"Trust  me,  Manuel.     Only  be  sure  of  yourself." 

"Now,  Linda,  I  will  go,  but  you  must  warn  your  father  of  this 
Frenchman,  and  if  you  repeat  to  him  what  you  have  heard  from  me, 
perhaps  he  will  know  more  of  the  danger  to  be  expected  than  I 
could  tell  him/ 

As  Manuel  left-  the  room  to  make  his  exit  from  the  garden,  the 
heavy  shuffle  in  the  hall  again  attracted  his  attention.  He  nodded 
knowingly  to  Linda,  while  he  motioned  his  hand  in  the  direction  of 
the  noise.  Linda  followed  him  to  let  him  into  the  street. 

Ducio,  like  criminals  generally,  was  too  much  wrought  up  by  his 
act  to  have  any  very  definite  idea  of  what  his  next  step  was  to  be. 
He  turned  the  corner  to  the  right  when  he  reached  the  plaza  and 
drew  himself  close  into  the  recess  of  the  first  door  he  came  to. 
Here  he  endeavored  to  muster  some  degree  of  that  coolness  which 
was  peculiarly  his  on  all  but  extraordinary  occasions,  in  order  that 
he  might  determine  between  the  comparative  conditions  of  safety 
promised  by  flight  on  the  one  hand,  and  by  an  assumption  of  inno- 
cence and  a  longer  sojourn  in  the  city  on  the  other. 

Whatever  might  have  been  the  nature  of  the  decision  that  was 
to  result  from  Ducio's  perturbed  cogitations,  he  was  destined  to  be 
cut  short  in  them  by  the  sound  of  footsteps,  followed  by  the  passing 
of  the  owner  of  the  feet,  who  almost  brushed  the  facings  of  the  door- 
way which  concealed  him. 

"It  is  my  evil  genius,"  thought  Ducio.  "It  is  that  fellow  with 
the  long  beard.  It  is  strange  how  I  always  encounter  him." 

Without  definitely  deciding  to  do  so,  he  followed  Ruiz  with  his 
eyes  through  the  darkness,  and  then  stealthily  in  person  with  eal-like 
steps. 

"I'll  watch  what  this  fellow  is  up  to,  anyway,"  he  said  to  himself. 

As  has  been  already  related,  Ruiz  turned  his  steps  finally  to  the 
jailer's  home  to  interview  Linda.  Ducio  witnessed  the  scaling  of 
I  he  wall  and  concluded  it  must  be  an  affair  of  the  heart  that  impelled 
the  act. 

"This  fellow  must  be  a  suitor  of  Linda's,"  was  the  Creole's  con- 
lie  thought  of  the  doubloons  in  Bonito's  vault.     These  were 


322  GUY  RAYMOND. 

brighter  to  him  than  Linda's  eyes.  He  envied  the  chance  of  the 
fellow  who  had  just  disappeared  over  the  wall,  and  thought  how  he  » 
could  turn  it  to  advantage  if  he  could  play  the  suitor  and  get  another 
grip  on  the  gold.  Bonito  must  have  recovered  from  the  blows  on  the 
head.  He  had  kept  it  dark.  Wise  Bonito !  The  story  of  the  assault 
would  have  been  the  story  of  possession.  The  old  miser!  The  fellow 
with  the  long  beard  had  been  received  perhaps  with  open  arms,  for 
he  had  heard  voices  and  then  all  was  quiet.  He  put  his  hand  on  the 
arch.  One  spring  and  he  missed  the  top.  The  other  fellow  did  it. 
Another  trial  and  the  adventurer  gained  the  wall.  He  surveyed  the 
garden  for  a  moment  and  then  dropped  over.  Everything  was  quiet 
in  the  little  enclosure.  Linda's  shrubs  and  flowers  were  the  sole 
occupants.  In  the  further  corner  was  a  tall  banana  plant  whose 
broad  blades  cast  a  dense  shadow.  As  Ducio  took  in  the  scene  his 
first  idea  was  to  conceal  himself  here  and  await  events.  His  patience 
was  equal  to  the  occasion.  The  long  interview  between  Linda  and 
her  visitor  at  length  terminated,  and  he  drew  himself  closer  under 
his  shelter  as  he  saw  the  two  emerge  from  the  house  and  move 
slowly,  while  they  conversed,  towards  the  exit  to  the  plaza. 

"Oh,  Manuel !"  he  heard  the  girl  say.     "Do  all  you  can  for  Senor 
Raymond." 

"Rest  assured  Linda,  on  that  point.     Before  tomorrow's  sun  will 
have  set  you  will  hear  from  me." 

Linda  stood  in  the  doorway  while  she  talked  in  lower  tones  to 
her  departing  visitor,  and  Ducio,  who  had  been  looking  with  longing 
eyes  into  the  now  vacant  apartment,  thought  the  opportunity  an  ex- 
cellent one  in  which  to  slip  into  it  unseen  and  be  that  much  nearer 
the  depository  of  Bonito's  wealth.  He  had  formed  no  plan,  no  definite 
course  to  pursue,  but  seemed  to  have  abandoned  himself  to  the  suc- 
cessive impulses  that  grew  out  of  the  opportunities  of  the  hour. 
Therefore,  under  the  direction  of  the  genius  of  evil,  Ducio  found 
himself  gliding  into  Linda's  room  with  the  noiseless  movements  of 
a  cat.  The  pure  atmosphere  of  the  virgin  apartment  was  defiled 
the  villain's  respiration.  It  was  as  the  mixing  of  the  noisome  vapor 
of  the  marsh  with  the  perfume  of  the  flower-clad  valley;  the  invasion 
of  Satan  into  an  Eden  of  purity.  With  a  hasty  glance  about  him 
he  tried  the  door  which  Linda  had  stated  to  Ruiz  had  been  lockec 
by  her  father,  to  keep  her  from  interrupting  his  operations.  Tl 
door  was  fastened.  There  was  no  time  to  lose.  He  must  conce* 
himself  or  the  screams  of  Linda  on  her  return  would  recall  tl 
visitor  from  whom  she  was  parting,  back  to  her  assistance.  He  ha< 
but  two  retreats  in  which  to  hide.  One,  under  the  bed;  the  other 


im 

£ 

eal 
the 

iad 


GUY  RAYMOND.  323 

behind  a  curtain  at  one  end  of  the  room,  which  depended  before  a 
recess  in  which  were  hung  some  articles  of  female  attire.  He  chose 
(lie  latter  as  the  one  best  calculated  to  afford  him  a  view  of  the 
H'iiorita's  movements.  He  had  scarcely  concealed  himself  behind  the 
curtain  before  Linda  entered  and  closed  and  fastened  her  door.  Wo- 
manlike, her  first  act  on  turning  from  the  door  was  to  take  a  look 
at  herself  in  .the  little  mirror  which  overlooked  her  modest  dressing 
table.  She  gave  a  little  sigh  as  she  turned  away  from  the  glass,  but 
instead  of  Buiz,  the  form  of  Guy  was  in  her  mental  vision.  As  it 
was  late,  Linda  made  preparations  to  retire  and  was  soon  attired  in 
her  snowy  nightdress,  little  suspecting  that  her  movements  had  been 
subjected  to  the  vile  scrutiny  of  the  wretch  who  had  betrayed  Guy 
Raymond.  She  walked  restlessly  for  a  moment  to  and  from  the 
door  leading  to  the  hall  and  would  stop  and  listen  a  while  as  if 
to  hear  the  noise  of  Bonito's  movements.  No  sounds  came  from  the 
hall.  Finally  she  drew  near  the  bedside  and  falling  upon  her  knees 
she  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  and  began  saying  her  prayers.  As  her 
petition  rose  silently  to  the  God  of  her  religion,  was  it  a  halo  that 
shone  about  her  temples,  or  was  it  only  the  light  from  the  lamp 
lluii1  glistened  as  it  was  reflected  from  her  smooth  black  tresses?  Her 
position  kneeling  above  the  soft  folds  of  her  couch,  with  a  proper 
com  prehension  of  the  faith  implied  by  the  act  of  prayer,  and  the 
air  of  purity  that  pervaded  the  virgin  sanctum  lent  an  inspiration 
to  the  scene  that  impressed  even  the  callous  heart  of  the  rascal  whose 
scrutiny  was  little  less  than  the  rape  of  virtue.  As  she  was  rising 
from  her  knees,  the  hall  door  suddenly  opened  and  Bonito  poked  in 
his  head. 

"Linda,  I  have  finished  what  I  was  doing.  I  am  tired,  Linda — 
very  tired,  and  if  I  sleep  too  soundly  to  hear  a  call — listen  Linda;  if 
I  am  hard  to  wake,  call  me.  Como  estoy  fatigado!" 

The  jailer  slammed  the  door,  but  did  not  lock  it.  Linda  fixed  her 
light  for  a  taper  and  went  to  bed. 

Ducio  poked  his  head  out  from  behind  the  curtain  several  times 
before  ho  ventured  to  leave  his  concealment.  He  watched  the  repos- 
ing figure  of  the  girl  and  listened  to  her  breathing  for  some  time 
before  ho  concluded  that  nature  had  yielded  to  the  claims  of  slumber 
and  that  Linda  was  in  the  land  of  dreams.  When  thus  convinced, 
1 1'1  irluled  from  the  recess  and  taking  the  dim  light  from  the  table, 
In-  approached  the  bed  and  held  it  close  to  the  face  of  the  sleeper. 
She  was  in  deep  sleep.  The  long,  black  lashes  rested  far  upon  the 
ron  IK  If  1  cheek.  One  arm  lay  in  naked  beauty  half  circling  her 
da  inly  head,  while  ihe  other  crossed  the  fair  bosom  that  rose  and  fell 


324  GUY  RAYMOND. 

with  her  respiration.  The  eyes  of  the  intruder  feasted  upon  the  scene 
as,  with  left  arm  uplifted  to  hold  the  light,  he  bent  forward  in  con- 
templation of  the  Hebe-like  tableau.  The  twitchings  of  his  features 
as  his  eyes  wandered  from  the  couch  around  the  room  with  a  glare 
that  depicted  fierce  conflicting  passions,  indicated  the  battle  raging 
within  between  evil  purposes,  alike  criminal,  but  disproportionate  in 
the  enormity  of  their  commission.  Beauty  or  booty,  fhe  weak  side 
of  Ducio's  nature  necessarily  succumbed  to  a  combination  of  purposes 
which  controlled,  if  it  did  not  smother  the  more  brutal  instinct. 
Discovery  in  such  a  place  would  be  ignominious  defeat,  and  would 
perhaps  lead  to  detection  of  his  latest  crime.  The  hope  of  escape 
and  the  passion  for  plunder  proved  indirectly  the  protectors  of  sleep- 
ing beauty.  Ducio  replaced  the  light  and  opened  the  hall  door.  It 
made  a  noise,  but  not  enough  to  disturb  the  sleeper.  The  hall  was 
dark.  He  remembered  where  Bonito  kept  the  candles.  He  relied 
upon  his  memory  and  the  chance  that  the  jailer  had  made  no  changes 
in  the  disposition  of  his  room.  He  had  a  mind  to  take  Linda's  lamp, 
but  feared  if  she  awoke  and  found  no  light  she  would  become  sus- 
picious that  all  was  not  right,  and  if  he  should  take  it  into  'Bonito's 
room  that  worthy  might  be  awakened  by  it  and  be  curious  to  know 
the  nature  of  the  intrusion.  Ducio's  decision  was  wise,  at  least  he 
so  concluded  when,  after  gaining  Bonito's  room,  he  heard  him  say: 

"The  monte  pio  is  not  robbed — never  robbed — no  mas  Bonito — qi 
m-a-la  fortuna. !" 

It  was  evident  to  the  intruder  that  these  words  were  uttered 
sleep  and  the  regrets  of  the  poor  old  miser  were  merged  into  dreai 
of  his  losses. 

"I  will  give  him  more  cause  to  dream  if  I  can  just  find  a  candle," 
thought  the  villain. 

At  length  Ducio  found  the  desired  candle  and  lost  no  time 
returning  to  get  a  light  from  Linda's  taper.     He  shut  the  door  afi 
him  as  he  came  out,  and  then  proceeded  to  detect  the  open  sesan 
to  the  vault  below.    The  lounge  was  there.    He  lifted  the  blanket  an( 
after  a  search  discovered  the  hair  cord.     One  pull  and  the  end 
the  mattress  folded  back  and  disclosed  the  descent.     Down  the  stej 
the  adventurer  proceeded  slowly.     What  was  it  on  the  steps? 
stooped  and  picked  up  a  handful  of  sand  and  dirt.     On  inspectk 
he  found  that  the  same  substances  were  scattered  all  the  way  down. 
He  wondered  what  it  could  mean.     On  reaching  the  floor  below  he 
found  that  sand  and  dirt  were  scattered  here  and  there  mixed  wi 
bits  of  stone.     He  looked  for  the  chest.     It  stood  a  little  further 
The  sight  of  it  caused  his  heart  to  beat  faster.     He  pulled   froi 


: 


GUY  KAYMOND.  325 

his  pocket  the  knife  he  had  used  on  the  other  occasion  and  stooping 
over  to  unlock  the  spring  he  found  that  there  would  be  no  necessity 
for  the  knife,  as  the  chest  was  not  locked.  The  discovery  weakened 
him.  Not  locked !  He  hesitated — then  raised  the  lid.  The  chest 
was  empty. 

CHAPTEE  XLV. 

From  the  day  that  Bonito  was  resuscitated  from  the  effects  of  the 
blow  inflicted  by  Ducio  Half  en  in  the  vault,  he  had  not  been,  to  all 
appearances,  the  same  man.  He  mechanically  went  through  the  rou- 
tine of  his  prison  duties,  but  all  vestige  of  his  humor  or  his  crabbed- 
ness  had  given  place  to  a  settled  melancholy  that  depicted  itself  in 
expression  and  action.  He  had  said  more  to  Guy  than  to  anyone  else. 
To  Linda  he  merely  hinted  at  a  loss  and  she,  accustomed  to  his 
freaks,  did  not  press  him  for  an  explanation.  He  tired  of  trying  to 
solve  the  enigma  of  the  discovery  of  the  entrance  to  the  vault,  and 
thought  constantly  of  what  he  should  do  with  the  treasure  in  the 
chest.  He  would  repair  to  the  vault  and  sit  for  an  hour  contem- 
plating the  great  burden  to  his  peace  of  mind  and  trying  to  devise 
some  means  for  its  better  security.  It*  was  on  one  of  these  occasions 
that  after  much  torturing  deliberation  Bonito  hit  upon  a  plan.  At 
any  rate  he  rose  from  his  stool  suddenly,  and  said  in  a  tone, 
much  more  cheerful  than  he  had  of  late  employed  in  his  solitary 
talks : 

"I  will  do  it — and  this  very  day." 

It  was  the  same  day  that  Ducio  dealt  the  fatal  blow  that  sent 
the  notary  to  his  long  account. 

Bonito  began  to  carry  out  his  purpose  at  once.  He  conveyed  to 
the  vault  the  necessary  tools  for  his  work  and  timed  his  operations 
so  as  not  to  be  missed  from  his  post.  He  carefully  marked  out  a 
space  in  the  side  wall,  and  began  to  cut  deeply  around  the  line. 
From  the  way  he  handled  his  hatchet  and  pick  and  chisel  and  mallet 
he  was  no  novice  in  the  matter.  By  the  early  afternoon  he  had 
effected  an  excavation  which  seemed  to  satisfy  him  as  to  dimension-, 
but  he  had  all  around  him  a  quantity  of  debris  whose  presence  would 
indicate  to  those  aware  of  his  possessions  the  place  of  their  conceal- 
ment. Bonito  was  equal  to  the  occasion.  Under  the  stimulus  of 
his  ruling  passion  the  flabby  anatomy  became  strong  and  muscular. 
He  decided  to  carry  the  last  vestige  of  the  signs  of  his  work  to  the 
region  above,  after  he  had  securely  walled  up  the  opening  and  the 
doubloons  in  it.  When  the  hoard  was  secured  behind  the  replaced 


326  GUY  RAYMOND. 

masonry  he  painter!  the  mortar-filled  cracks  so  as  to  resemble 
undisturbed  mass  around  it.  Now  began  the  tired  miser's  real  w 
Up  the  steep  ste{  s  lie  had  to  carry,  box  full  at  a  time,  the  sand, 
dirt  and  crumbled  rock,  and  it  was  on  these  trips  from  the  vault, 
bending  under  the  loads  of  dirt,  that  Bonito  made  the  shuffling, 
labored  steps  that  excited  Unix's  attention  while  he  was  interviewing 
Linda.  The  miser  was  worn  with  fatigue  when  he  fetched  his  last 
boxful],  "and  he  deferred  until  the  morrow  a  final  sweeping  of 
steps  and  floor.  He  felt  sure  that  he  had  not  been  observed,  and 
Linda,  locked  in  her  room,  could  have  been  the  only  one  who  had 
heard  the  little  noise  he  had  made.  The  strain  removed  from  the 
miser's  mind  by  the  fancied  safety  of  his  gold  ensured  him  a  rest, 
which  .he  had  not  experienced  since  his  robbery.  Now  he  could 
dream  of  griefs,  which  erstwhile  had  prevented  his  slumber.  He 
envied  the  monte  pio,  who  was  never  robbed,  and  the  beggar  at  the 
church  door,  who  had  nothing  to  lose.  He  had  formed  something  of 
an  attachment  for  the  young  American  who  was  his  prisoner  for  the 
second  time,  but  a  stern  fact  had  intervened  to  wipe  from  the  tablet 
the  record  of  the  feeling.  The  miser's  heart  knew  no  lasting  love 
save  for  his  gold.  Guy  had  rescued  him — perhaps  saved  him — but 
with  him  rested  the  knowledge  of  his  hoard.  For  this  crime,  El 
Pajarro  might  be  shot  for  all  he  cared.  Since  his  late  concealment 
of  the  treasure  he  had  softened,  but  so  little  that  he  still  felt  callous 
as  to  Guy's  fate.  Poor  Bonito !  Of  such  how  many  are  there  in  the 
world  who  make  pretensions  to  Christian  virtue  and  moral  worth  ? 
Callous  to  human  woe,  indifferent  to  human  rights,  forgetful  of 
moral  aims,  ready  to  sacrifice  friendship,  love  and  truth  on  the  altar 
of  Mammon,  they  are  more  to  be  loathed  than  the  Bonito  of  our 
story,  whose  ignorance  and  obscurity  debarred  him  from  all  con- 
ception of  the  feelings  incident  to  the  refinement  of  culture  and  a 
true  philanthropy. 


Father  Tgnacio  had  become  so  worried  at  the  continued  absen 
of  Jose  that  it  was  deemed  best  to  make  known  to  the  good  priest 
the  true  state  of  affairs.  Jose  himself  became  so  apprehensive  nbont 
the  trouble  and  annoyance  of  his  master  in  regard  to  himself  that 
he  added  by  his  entreaties  to  the  determination  of  Guy  Raymond 
divulge  the  secret  to  his  reverend  friend.  He  felt  sure  of  the  goo 
I'a flier's  fidelity  to*  his  professed  friendship,  and  that  Ruiz  upon  hi 
request  would  not  be  betrayed  to  his  enemies.  Accordingly  the  ne 
was  communicated  and  the  same  day  the  good  father  visited  the  cell 


:«.(! 

hi- 
ws 


GUY  RAYMOND.  327 

and  had  a  long  interview  with  the  two  prisoners.  The  visit  was  one 
of  great  consolation  to  the  major  domo,  who  had  no  peace  of  mind 
under  Hie  pre-existing  conditions  of  his  confinement.  To  Guy  the 
presence  of  the  priest  was  cheering  inasmuch  a's  it  proved  a  continued 
interest  for  his  welfare  and  besides  afforded  him  a  respite  from  the 
monotony  of  confinement  and  the  narrow  channel  of  discussion 
through  which,  perforce,  flowed  the  stream  of  conversation  with 
the  simple  Jo-e.  The  reverend  visitor  left  him  in  a  more  cheerful 
M'.-ile  of  mind,  notwithstanding  the  former's  assurances  that  his  fate 
was  sealed  so  far  as  the  military  were  concerned.  While  thus  destroy- 
ing whatever  hope  that  may  have  lingered  with  the  prisoner,  the 
father  gave  him  to  understand  that  he  must  prepare  to  effect,  by 

ic  means,  an  escape  from  the  carcel.  While  imparting  the  latter 
advice  his  (one  and  manner  were  plainly  indicative  that  a  powerful, 
and  no  doubt  successful,  attempt  would  be  made  to  wrest  him  from 
ilie  hands  of  his  would-be  executioners.  On  his  way  to  the  pla/a. 
Father  Ignacio  stopped  at  ( 'andelario's.  The  latter  was  engrossed  in 
her  a vocaiion  as  concocter  of  peppery  viands  for  the  general  public, 
and  failed  to  note  the  presence  of  the  other,  until  he  said  in  his 
cheery  voice: 

"( 'andelario — siempre  trabajando  \" 

She  turned  quickly  and  with  an  obesiance  asked  the  priest's  bless- 
ing, which  he  gave  her  with  a  smile  and  a  gentle  tap  on  her  cheek. 

"Si,  senoiy"  she  replied.  "Always  at  work.  T  have  only  Carlo 
to  help  me  and  mv  custom  has  become  over  large/' 

"You  would  grow  rich,  senora,  if  it  were  not  for  your  charitable 
heart/' 

"It  is  true  that  T  make  money,  your  worship,  but  T  do  not,  care 
to  save  it.  If  T  put  it  to  good  use  it  will  be  treasure  laid  up  in 
her  von.  The  church  has  need  of  money  and  T  never  refuse  my  lilile 
mite.  'Besides,  poor  Oandelario,  who  is  now  suffering  ihe  pains  of 
purgatory,  has  need  of  assistance  in  the  way  of  monthly  masses  for 
hi<  -oul  and  in  the  good  deeds  which  God  permits  me  1o  perform/' 

"Your  husband  was  not  worthy  of  you,  but  you  are  to  be  honored 
for  your  noble  efforts  to  shorten  his  term  of  punishment  in  I  lie  (lames 
of  purgatory/' 

"There  can  he  no  doubt  he  is  in  purgatory,  mi  padre?" 

"It,  is  not  for  us  to  judge.     He  received  the  last  sacraments?" 

"Todos." 

'-Then,  if  truly  repentant,  he  is  now  atoning  for  his  sins  in  the 
flanus  of  purgation." 


328  GUY  EAYMOND. 

"And  the  masses  will  shorten  his  sufferings  by  many  years?" 

"Hija  mia,  we  cannot  tell.     It  may  be  that  your  husband's  so 
is  now  with  God.    An  hour  in  purgatory  may  seem  like  a  year.    T 
pains  are  quite  equal  to  those  of  hell  and  a  moment  of  torture  app 
to  the  poor  soul  like  an  age.     The  sufferings  from  the  flames  are  n 
all ;  but  are  only  second  to  those  which  arise  from  an  acute  conscio 
ness  of  the  enormity  of  sins  which  have  been  committed  in  the  flesh, 
and  the  displeasure  they  have  caused  the  Heavenly  Father." 

"Then  my  husband  may  be  released,"  said  the  woman  with  a 
brightening  countenance.  "But,"  she  continued,  "I  will  not  run 
any  risk  by  stopping  the  masses,  or  my  prayers  for  his  soul." 

"A  proper  spirit,  nina,  for  if  his  soul  has  been  released,  the 
masses  will  not  be  said  in  vain,  but  will  be  credited  to  other  poor 
souls  whose  friends  on  earth  are  not  so  fortunate  as  yourself." 

"A  wise  arrangement  of  the  church,"  she  said,  with  a  grateful 
look  at  the  priest. 

"Rather  a  beneficient  provision  of  God  through  the  church  mili- 
tant," explained  the  father.  "God  is  not  willing  that  any  good  act 
should  be  lost.  Every  act  of  faith  or  charity  is  like  the  good  seed  which 
springs  up  in  good  soil  and  is  fostered  throughout  its  growth  by  an 
environment  absolutely  congenial  to  its  perfect  development." 

Candelario  was  gratified  by  the  explanation  and  realized  a  feel 
ing  of   moral   excellence,   in  his   approval   of  her   good   deeds,   th 
brought  with  it  resignation  to  her  husband's  supermundane  fortun 
and  to  her  own  widowed  state. 

To  his  inquiry  she  informed  him  that  she  ministered  to  the 
wants  of  the  young  American  prisoner  as  well  as  to  those  of  the 
major  domo,  and  was  being  satisfactorily  remunerated  for  what  she 
did.  After  bestowing  his  parting  blessing  on  the  charitable  widow, 
Father  Ignacio  returned  to  his  residence  full  of  meditations  about 
the  disparities  existing  in  human  dispositions.  He  had  not  far 
travel  from  the  saint  to  the  sinner.  Crime  stalked  by  the  side 
virtue.  From  identical  mental  structures  issued  perfect  faith  a 
agnosticism,  clear  religious  perception  and  contradictory  scientific 
deduction,  traditionary  proofs  and  the  ccmtnirirf  i<s  of  inductive  con- 
clusions. He  contrasted  the  agnosticism  of  the  young  American  who 
was  virtuous  and  honorable,  from  the  ideas  lie  drew  from  a  sense  of 
duty,  with  the  implicit  faith  of  the  widow  whose  surplus  funds  were 
donated  for  the  benefit  of  the  dead  and  the  glory  of  the  church. 

The  good  father's  meditations  were  cut  short  on  entering  his  h 
by  the  presence  of  the  giant  form  of  the  mozo  of  the  Navarro's,  w 


? 


GUY  RAYMOND.  329 

stood  respectfully,  hat  in  hand,  as  if  desirous  of  an  interview  with 
him. 

"What,  Miguel !  This  is  a  rare  place  for  you.  Except  to  be  at 
early  mass  I  thought  you  had  condemned  yourself  to  be  a  recluse  on 
the  premises  of  Don  Juan." 

"I  have  little  business  away  from  home,  your  worship.  One  must 
go  to  holy  mass;  but  it  is  true  I  am  very  little  out,  and  it  is  only 
now  and  then  that  T  go  to  a  cockfight." 

"You  are  a  good  mozo,  Miguel,  and  that  is  not  saying  a  little, 
seeing  how  very  large  you  are.'5 

"I  wish  I  were  good,  your  worship,"  said  Miguel,  with  eyes  cast 
down  and  awkwardly  turning  his  sombrero  in  his  hand. 

"I  came  to  see  your  worship — about — about — 

"Well,  what  about?" 

"It  must  be  under  the  seal  of  confession,  your  worship." 

"Well,,  proceed." 

"About  a  secret  passage." 

"A  secret  passage !" 

"Yes,  your  worship.  You  know  there  is  a  secret  vault  which  is 
under  the  carcel  and— 

"What  do  you  know  of  this  vault?  What  interest  is  it  to  you 
who  attend  to  your  own  affairs  so  strictly  that  you  have  almost  quit 
going  to  cockfights?" 

"I  have  no  interest  that  is  mine  alone — but  the  Senorita  Navarro, 
who  is  my  mistress  and  who  has  the  right  to  have  my  service,  wants 
me  to  lead  the  way  to  this  vault  and— 

"The  Senorita  Navarro!     Lead  her  there?" 

"Yes,  your  worship ;  but  for  what  purpose  I  know  not,  unless  it 
be  to  let  a  prisoner  escape." 

"Ah !  I  see.  I  see,"  said  Father  Ignacio,  reflectively.  "Well- 
well — after  all  it  is  nature.  A  kind  of  natural  selection,  assimilation 
of  worth  and  character.  Beatrice  is  a  splendid  woman — Senor  Ray- 
mond a  splendid  man — I  see;  I  see." 

The  priest  directed  the  giant  to  follow  him,  and  the  two  repaired 
to  a  private  room. 

"Why  did  you  wish  to  see  me  about  this  affair?" 

"The  secret  of  the  vault  is  a  church  secret." 

"Why  so?" 

"Because  Father  Francis,  the  priest  before  you,  told  me  so.  I 
would  not  have  known  of  the  place  only  from  the  fact  that  I  was 
hired  to  make  some  repairs  and  was  ordered  not  to  speak  of  it  outside 


330  GUY  RAYMOND. 

of  the  confessional.     When  my  mistress  asked  me  to  show  her  the 
vault  I  promised,  but  since  then  I  thought  it  best  to  get  your  consent. 

"And  if  I  refuse  consent?" 

"Then — then — I  must  serve  my  mistress,  mi  padre." 

"You- are  a  queer  fellow,  Miguel.     Suppose  I  should  refuse 
absolve  you  for  the  sin  of  disobedience?" 

"I  would  be  unhappy,  mi  padre — but  can  my  mistress  be  wrong 
in  this?  If  you  could  see  her  pretty  face  look  so  troubled,  and  the 
tears  dancing  in  her  eyes." 

"Did  that  affect  you?" 

"It  went  to  my  heart." 

"You  have  a  big  heart,  Miguel,  even  for  such  a  big  body,  and 
1  give  my  consent." 

"Gracias,  mil  gracias." 

"And  tell  the  senorita  if  I  can  serve  her  without  being  known  in 
the  matter,  to  send  me  word  at  once.  I  know  of  this  vault,  Miguel, 
but  have  never  seen  it.  It  was  used  for  some  purpose  by  the  founders 
of  San  Fernando,  but  for  years  it  has  been  closed  with  nothing  on 
record  as  to  its  contents.  Some  day  I  will  inspect  it  through 
curiosity." 

Miguel  left  Father  Ignacio  to  ruminate  on  a  new  subject — the 
connection  between  Guy  Raymond  and  the  beautiful  Beatrice  Navarro. 
How  had  she  come  to  know  of  this  subterranean  passage?  What  plan 
had  been  hit  upon  to  release  the  prisoner  was  to  him  unknown,  and 
he  could  not  realize  how  an  escape  past  the  guards  could  be  effecte 
even  after  Guy  was  safely  out  of  prison  walls. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

"Bravo,  Perry!     That's  a  fine  fellow." 
"Not  a  whit  bigger  than  the  last,  Mr.   Hamilton." 
"Boy,  you  are  a  born  Nimrod.     Why  can't  I  catch  a  fish 
that?" 

"It's  because  you  are  not  used  to  it.  You  have  got  to  make  yo 
bait  attractive.  See  how  I  hook  this  lively  minnow  through  the 
tail  so  as  not  to  hurt  him  bad.  He  will  kick  and  wriggle  in  the 
water  and  soon  get  the  attention  of  a  trout.  The  trout  is  curious 
to  know  what's  t^e  mater  with  the  minnow  and  swims  around  him. 
When  he  gets  near  he  seems  to  get  mad  because  the  little  fellow  don't 
try  to  escape  and  snaps  him  up  whether  he  is  hungry  or  not.  And 


. 


GUY  RAYMOND.  :;::i 

then  it's  owing  to  the  depth  von  give  your  ha  it  It  should  be  half 
the  depth  of  the  water  for  game  fish  like  the  trout." 

"You  would  grace  a  professorship  in  the  art  piscatorial,  my  boy. 
I  will  see  that  you  are  not  overlooked  when  the  future  university 
of  the  coming  republic  will  have  been  founded.  I  will  observe  your 
directions  and  try  my  luck.  See!  Is  that  right?  The  hook  does 
not  touch  a  vital  part.  But  don't  the  little  scamp  wriggle.  I  reckon 
it  hurts  him.  Now,  there  seems  to  be  a  good  place  in  that  cluster 
of  lillios  where  the  waier  is  eddying  in  the  blue  open  space,  and  a 
sunken  log  just  shows  its  moss-covered  bark  as  it  slants  towards  (In- 
bottom.  I  know  there  must  be  a  monster  trout  lurking  in  the  shadow 
of  that  covering  of  watercress,  ready  to  spring  upon  any  prey  that 
will  promise  a  breakfast.  What,  Perry!  Another?'7 

•"That's  what,  Mr.  Hamilton.    I  got  him  while  you  were  spouting." 

"You  are  entirely  too  practical  to  be  a  professor.  Perry,  1  retract 
my  promise  about  the  university." 

"Throw  in  your  line,  Mr.  Hamilton.  They're  commencing  to 
bite." 

"I  could  fish  in  the  Yazoo,  but  hang  me  if  I've  any  luck  in  the 
San  Antonio.  Well,  here  goes." 

Hamilton  threw  his  line  carefully  into  the  inviting  looking  place 
near  the  sunken  log.  He  had  not  long  to  wait  before  the  float 
bobbed  under  a  little  and  reappeared,  reinforced  by  a  bubble,  then  it 
was  slowly  drawn  under  until  it  disappeared  beneath  a  broad  leaf  of  a 
lily.  Perry  looked  on,  amused  at  his  companion,  whose  manner  indi- 
cated that  he  was  expecting  a  splendid  catch.  Hamilton  gave  a  vigor- 
ous pull,  only  to  find  his  line  fastened.  Patient  attempts  to  disengage 
it  were  made,  until  finally  a  small  turtle  showed  himself  on  the  log, 
with  the  line  protruding  from  his  mouth,  distinctly  visible  in  the 
clear  water.  The  line  was  foul  above  the  hook  and  the  turtle,  securely 
fastened,  had  taken  his  position  in  full  view. 

"Perry,  I'm  disgusted,"  said  Hamilton.  "We  have  plenty  fish 
for  two  messes." 

"You  want  to  go  to  camp?" 

"Yes,  just  as  soon  as  I  rout  that  devilish  turtle." 

So  saying,  Hamilton  armed  himself  with  several  stones,  and 
began  a  vigorous  assault  on  the  object  of  his  wrath,  whom  he  soon 
caused  to  leave  his  position. 

"If  I  had  my  rifle  here !"  he  exclaimed,  half  out  of  breath. 

"v—  couldn't  have  hit  him." 


"You  couldi 
"Why  not?" 


: 


332  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"The  distance  from  the  top  of  the  water  to  the  turtle  was  deceit 
ing.  If  you  had  run  a  straight  stick  down  to  him  from  the  surface 
to  his  back  on  the  line  of  your  sight,  the  stick  would  have  looked 
bent  or  broken  right  where  it  went  into  the  water.  This  would 
have  been  a  difficulty  in  your  aiming  and  your  ball  would  have 
gone  above  the  turtle/' 

"From  the  crude  way  you  have  expressed  this  truth  is  prooi 
that  your  knowledge  is  practical,  and  comes  from  the  book  of  nature. 
You  are  an  observer,  Perry.  That  noddle  of  yours  is  brim  £ull 
of  undeveloped  genius.  IT1  carry  the  fish.  You  rescue  the  remnants 
of  my  tackle  and  bring  the  poles.  The  boys  will  open  their  eyes 
at  our  success/' 

The  reader  will  doubtless  welcome  to  the  front  again  some  of 
the  characters  who  have  been  left  aside  during  the  narration  of 
other  events.  The  scene  was  above  the  city,  just  beyond  the  old 
mill  seen  by  Ducio  and  Josefa  from  the  walls  of  the  Alamo,  at  the 
time  they  were  interrupted  in  their  tete-a-tete  by  Father  Ignacio. 

The  greater  portion  of  the  Texan  forces,  now  reduced  by  the 
departure  of  discontented  volunteers  for  their  homes  to  about  six 
hundred  men,  were  encamped  in  the  vicinity.  Scouts  were  ever 
on  the  alert,  led  by  such  leaders  as  Deaf  Smith,  Karnes  and  others, 
and  repeated  demonstrations  in  force  were  made  to  draw  the  Mexi- 
cans from  their  stronghold.  A  number  of  horses  started  by  the 
garrison  for  the  Rio  Grande  had  been  captured,  and  a  bloody  affair 
known  as  the  grass  fight  had  occurred,  in  which  a  severe  loss  was 
inflicted  upon  the  besieged.  In  all  of  these  forays  and  collisions  with 
the  enemy,  our  mess  had  had  liberal  representation,  and  all  had 
commanded  by  their  conduct  the  respect  of  their  fellow  soldiers. 
The  mess  was  comfortably  situated  on  the  right  bank  of  the  beautiful 
river  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  old  mill,  where  they  had  impro- 
vised a  hut  which  held  whatever  effects  they  boasted  in  the  way  of 
bedding  and  camp  utensils.  The  supply  of  all  kinds  was  meager, 
and  the  hut  was  merely  utilized  in  rainy  weather,  or  as  a  night 
repository  for  certain  articles.  The  mildness  of  the  climate  had 
made  outdoor  sleeping  under  the  branches  of  the  trees  preferable 
to  piling-  into  the  narrow  precincts  of  a  hut. 

The  sun  was  only  just  above  the  eastern  hills  when  the  two 
fishermen  returned  to  display  the  trophies  of  their  morning's  sport. 
The  kettle  was  steaming  above  the  fire  that,  burned  to  glowing 
coals,  was  being  replenished  with  small  brushwood  by  a  well-known 
figure,  who,  turning  in  their  direction  as  he  heard  the  familiar 


GUY  RAYMOND.  333 

voices  of  the  approaching  messmates,  disclosed  the  features  of  Mr. 
Trigg. 

"What!  All  alone?"  said  Hamilton,  as  he  looked  about  for 
i.lio  others. 

"Yes,  for  the  present.     Roach  has  gone  for  a  bit  of  wood." 

"And  Jones?" 

"He's  down  the  bank  for  water." 

"I  wish  Karnes  were  back  from  the  scout.  He'll  miss  a  treat 
with  these  fish  for  breakfast,"  said  Hamilton. 

"Don't  let  that  bother  you,  Mr.  Hamilton.  I've  got  the  hooks 
and  as  long  as  they  last  Til  get  plenty  fish,"  replied  Perry. 

"Not  if  I  go  along  and  lose  a  hook  every  time." 

"Hello,  boys!  What  luck?"  cried  Nathan  Roach,  throwing  down 
a  huge  turn  of  brush  and  small  wood. 

"See!"  replied  Perry,  holding  up  a  half  dozen  fine  specimens 
of  black  bass. 

"As  big-  as  I  ever  seed,"  said  Nathan,  admiringly. 

"I'll  bet  Jones  has  seen  specimens  a  dozen  times  the  size." 

"Now,  Mr.  Hamilton,  do  please  give  Jones  a  rest;  ye  were  near 
fightin'  last  night." 

"Here  he  is  now.  Jones,  did  you  ever  see  anything  to  beat  this 
catch  in  an  hour's  time?"  asked  the  Mississippian. 

"Well — yes.  Those  are  large  enough  for  this  country,  but  the 
bas?  in  the  east  go  as  high  as  twelve  pounds." 

"And  I  will  wager  that  six  pounds  and  a  half  is  the  heaviest 
bass  ever  known  east,  west,  north,  or  south." 

"You  have  not  traveled  or  seen  much,  friend  Tipton,  or  you 
would  not  make  the  wager." 

"We  all  said  you  would  quote  India  and  insist  that  these  noble 
fish  are  minnows.  These  are  about  the  size  of  the  bait  you  used  to 
catch  the  eastern  bass." 

"Come;  give  in  boys,  for  here's  Karnes  and  his  crowd.  It's  a 
good  thing  we  was  just  off  of  duty  last  night,  or  we'd  'a'  been  ordered 
out  with  him." 

Nathan  was  right.  A  little  knot  of  horsemen  appeared  over  the 
rise  from  the  west  and  in  a  few  moments  their  gallant  leader,  Karnes, 
was  in  their  midst. 

"Here  is  a  letter  that-  I  should  have  got  sooner,  I  think,"  said 
Karnes.  "Hamilton,  will  you  please  read  it?  It  is  doubtless  of 
jrroat  iiii|M>rJ;im-f  to  your  friend,  Mr.  Trigg-,  as  a  report  reached 
UK,-,  tlirmn<h  ;i  deserter,  that  he  had  been  sentenced  to  be  shot." 


334  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"God  forbid  that  it  is  too  late,  sir/'  said   Mr.   Trigg,,  now 
attention  to  what  was  to  follow. 

Hamilton  took  the  communication,  which  was  still  sealed, 
having  opened  it,  read  from  it  as  follows : 

Sir: — The  plans  made  for  the  capture  of  General  A.  are  per- 
fected, and  nothing  remains  now  but  to  carry  out  what  we  have 
determined  upon  in  our  last  interview.  It  is  most  important  that 
there  be  no  delay  whatever  in  the  time  agreed  upon,  as  it  will  be 
impossible  to  rescue  the  prisoner  from  the  power  of  his  would-be 
murderers  if  there  should  be  any  postponement  of  the  start  down 
the  river.  You  will  find  me  ready  at  the  place  of  meeting  to  join 
you  and  to  post  you  of  any  change  which  the  nature  of  the  under- 
taking and  succeeding  circumstances  may  yet  suggest.  You  know 
my  challenge  and  answer,  and  I  hereby  communicate  to  you  the 
countersign  for  tonight,  which  I  had  to  pay  well  for.  Your?  for 
Texas  and  liberty,  M.  R. 

Saturday,  5  A.  M. 

"That  means  tonight,  men,"  said  Karnes.  "I  will  explain  to 
the  rest  of  you  later.  Mr.  Trigg  is  already  posted.  Manual  Ruiz 
has  been  in  town  for  some  days  as  a  spy,  to  plan  the  capture  of 
General  Almonte,  who  has  been  in  correspondence  with  Edward  Grit- 
ton.  Gritton  is  a  spy  on  our  people.  The  result  is  that  Ruiz  has 
planned  an  expedition  to  go  into  the  town  and  capture  Almonte. 
He  has  marked  out  more  work  for  the  boys  who  are  to  go,  and  that 
will  be  to  rescue  a  young  American  prisoner  under  sentence  to  be 
shot,  and  who  is  no  other  than  the  young  friend  of  our  comrade, 
Trigg — Guy  Raymond.  No  man  will  be  allowed  to  go  unless  he 
volunteers  for  the  service,  and  it  will  require  just  about  the  number 
in  our  mess.  If  Mr.  Trigg  will  remain  to  keep  the  camp,  I  will 
get  a  Mexican  in  his  place  who  knows  every  inch  of  the  town,  and 
who  is  reliable  and  plucky." 

"No,  sir,  I  want  to  be  along,"  said  Mr.  Trigg. 

"But,  Mr.  Trigg,"  interposed  Hamilton,  "remember  you  should 
not  run  a  risk  of  your  life  in  this  instance,  for  I  want  you  and 
Guy  Raymond  to  meet  and  settle  some  matters.  Think;  if  we 
should  rescue  him  and  you  should  be  killed.  Then  you  are  the 
oldest  and  should  have  charge  of  the  camp,  and  let  us  younger  fry 
take  the  chances.  Besides,  it  is  very  important  that  this  Mexican 
should  be  along  in  case  we  wanted  to  play  greasers  on  them." 

"I  see  I  am  to  be  put  upon  the  shelf.  Sorra  the  day  when  I 
should  be  too  old  to  do  my  duty.  Fix  it  to  suit  ye,  but  I'll  put 


GUY  RAYMOND.  335 

myself  against  the  likes  of  you  for  any  work  that's  up.  An'  who's 
to  row  the  boat?" 

"Why,  Jones  and  myself/'  replied  Hamilton.  "He  used  to  row 
Lord  Dalrymple's  boat,  I  will  wager,  and  as  for  myself,  I  belonged 
to  the  best  rowing  club  in  Mississippi.  Trust  us  for  rowing." 

"What'n  thunder  does  we  want  with  a  boat?"  asked  Nathan, 
stretching  his  long  anatomy  and  poking  his  head  over  Hamilton's 
shoulder. 

"Never  mind,  Roach ;  we  are  only  going  to  sail  into  the  enemy's 
lines.  They  have  no  idea  that  we  possess  a  navy,  but  we're  going 
to  show  them  a  gringo  trick." 

"You'll  have  to  muffle  your  oars ;  but  I'll  fix  them  for  ye,"  said 
Mr.  Trigg. 

"The  boat  needs  caulking,"  said  Jones.     "I'll  attend  to  that." 

"That's  right,  boys;  divide  up  the  work  and  all  go  at  it  so  soon 
as  we  discuss  these  savory  smelling  fish  that  Perry  has  already  in 
the  frying  pan.  Let  me  see:  Mr.  Trigg  will  fix  the  oars;  Jones 
will  bail  the  boat;  Nathan  will  clean  the  guns  and  see  to  the 
ammunition;  Perry  will  put  a  meal's  grub  in  our  haversacks— 

"And  you  will  play  the  gentleman,  Mr.  Hamilton,"  said  Jones. 

"No,  Jones.  I'll  overlook  the  whole  preparations  and  see  that 
no  part  will  be  neglected." 

•'That's  Karnes'  business,"  suggested  Nathan.  "'Pears  to  me 
you're  to  be  the  lazy  drone  of  the  crowd,  as  usual.  You  needn't  talk 
about  Jones  lying;  you  offset  him  by  your  'tarnel  laziness." 

"Never  mind,  Roach.  You'll  say  after  the  thing  is  over  that  I 
was  no  drone." 

CHAPTER  XLVII. 

The  activity  among  the  members  of  the  mess  was  unabated  until 
a  late  hour  in  the  afternoon,  when  Inspector  Hamilton  reported  to 
Kjirnes  that  every  detail  had  been  attended  to  and  there  was  nothing 
left,  undone  that  would  be  necessary  for  the  successful  outcome  of 
II ic  expedition,  so  far  as  the  entry  by  the  river  into  the  heart  of 
the.  enemy's  lines  was  concerned.  It  remained  for  Ruiz's  part  of 
the  programme  to  stand  the  test  of  practicability.  The  hours  stole 
slowly  by,  testing  sorely  the  patience  of  the  bold  men  who  were  to 
take  their  very  lives  in  their  hands  purely  for  the  love  of  adventure, 
granting  a  possible  modicum  of  patriotism  or  a  touch  of  humane 
;in  \icty  for  the  fate  of  a  countryman  under  sentence  of  death.  At 
(he  landscape  grew  dim  under  the  deepening  shades  of  evening, 


336  GUY  KAYMOND. 


as:  the 


which  soon  merged  in  the  gloom  of  a  moonless  night,  veiling 
forms   of  nature   and   giving  spectre  shapes  to   objects   within  the 
easy  radius  of  the  camp  fires.     As   the  night  advanced   apace  the 
silver  host  which  studded   the   autumnal  sky   developed   a  maturer 
beauty  and  forced  the  deeper  shadows  to  own  their  luster.    The  quiet 
of  the  night  made  audible  the  low  murmurs  of  the  current,  which 
washed  the  base  of  the  steep  river  bank,  where  floated  the  frail  craft 
destined  to  bear  to  the  brink  of  danger  human  lives,  dear  to  them- 
selves and  yet  more  precious  to  distant  hearts.    Are  such  and  kindred 
adventures  correctly  in  the  category  of  heroism?     Yes;  when  they 
are  born  of  resistance  to  wrong — to  oppression.    But  war  begets  the 
lowest   types   of   character,   as   does   its   antithesis,   the   lais&ez   faire 
indifferentism  of  a  lasting  public  inertia  which  awakes  to  no  appeal 
for  a  return  to  purer  social  and  political  methods.     The  heroic  in 
character  could  be  so  easily  turned  to  the  channels  of  human  duty; 
to  swell  the  current  of  human  brotherhood.    But  a  questionable  civi- 
lization bars  the  way  to  lasting  peace,  to  an  attainable  culture  that 
would  bring  to  a  clo&e,  not  only  the  reign  of  personal  despotism  and 
personal  tyranny,  but  would  immolate  on  the  altar  of  universal  liberty 
the  tyranny  and  despotism  of  class.     To  what  heights  would  that 
civilization  ascend  which  would  accord  all  natural  rights  to  natural 
opportunities;  which  would  practice  the  grand  theories,   pure  and 
simple,  which  fell  in  burning  words  from  the  lips  of  the  founder  of 
Christianity,  and  which  yet  form  the  texts  of  sermons  from  a  million 
pulpits.     There  is  heroism  and  heorism,  but  the  greatest  hero  is  he 
who  had  duty  for  his  guide  and  justice  for  his  mentor,  and  who 
follows  the  directions  of  the  one  and  the  admonitions  of  the  other. 
The  waiting  men  stood  around  the  camp  fire,  Hamilton's  jests 
eliciting  characteristic  replies  from  Jones  or  Roach,  while  Mr.  Trigg 
appeared  meditative  and  Perry   quiescent.     The  old  man  was  not 
well   satisfied  with  the  position   assigned  to  him;  yet  he  mentally 
admitted   that   Hamilton's   arguments   were  to   the   point   and   that 
he    would    perhaps    better    subserve    the    interests    of    Guy    Ray- 
mond by  avoiding  the  risks  of  the  expedition.      Karnes  had  gone 
just  before  dark  to  fetch  his   Mexican  guide,  and  it  was  with  no 
little  satisfaction  that  his  men  beheld  him  appear  with  that  indi- 
vidual, ready  to  depart.     As  there  was  nothing  to  delay  them,  the 
men  filed  down  the  bank,  responding  to  Mr.  Trigg's  "good  luck  to 
ye/  boys,"  by  hearty  good-byes. 

Now  that  serious  work  was  before  them,  Karnes  impressed  each 
one  with  the  necessity  for  silence  and  prompt  obedience  to  all  com- 


GUY  RAYMOND.  337 

mands.  He  assigned  the  duty  of  rowing  the  boat  to  TTnmilton  and 
Jones,  while  he  took  position  in  the  stern  to  guide  the  craft  with  a 
wide  paddle  in  lieu  of  a  rudder.  Perry,  Roach  and  the  Mexican 
guide  were  assigned  places,  with  directions  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout, 
as  the  boat  proceeded,  to  detect  the  signals  of  friends  or  the  presence 
of  foes.  All  being  ready,  the  little  craft  was  pushed  into  the  stream, 
the  oarsmen  dipped  their  oars,  then  with  easy  strokes,  gave  her 
headway,  while  Karnes  directed  her  bow  down  the  river.  There  was 
little  noise,  the  muffled  rowlocks  worked  to  perfection  and  the  light 
plash  of  the  oarblades  were  not  distinguishable  from  the  noise  of 
the  rapid  current. 

"Just   give   her   motion,   boys,"   commanded   Karnes.      "Only   a 
little  swifter  than  the  current,  so  I  can  keep  her  head  right." 

Now  and  then  the  boat  shot  into  a  pool  where  the  river  deepened, 
;m  1  the  rowers  would  bend  to  their  work,  while  the  steerer  peered 
forward  through  the  darkness,  to  avoid  overhanging  branches  of  the 
trees  lining  either  bank,  that  here  and  there  bent  low  above  the 
surface  of  the  water,  or  to  discover  whatever  obstructions  might  exist, 
where  a  sudden  incline  of  the  river  bed  produced  a  rapid  or  the 
stream  turned  abruptly  from  its  course.  Navigation,  however,  was 
to  be  a  minor  danger  in  the  perilous  expedition  upon  which  the 
boat's  crew  had  embarked.  The  river  had  been  selected  as  the 
safest  avenue  through  which  to  enter,  without  detection,  the  enemy's 
lin>s,  strongly  guarded  at  all  points  against  the  invasion  of  every 
character  of  force,  that  should  menace  them  by  field  or  road  or  foot- 
path. Mexican  shrewdness  did  not  suspect  the  presence  of  a  boat, 
where  no  such  contrivance  had  been  known  to  exist  in  all  the  archives 
of  Bexar  from  the  time  the  first  Franciscan  had  planted  his  foot 
upon  the  banks  of  the  picturesque  San  Antonio,  down  to  the  present 
administration.  And  perhaps  a  chapter  quite  diverse  in  its  details 
from  the  present  record  would  have  added  more  tragedy  to  the  story 
of  Guy  Raymond  if  among  the  rebel  Texans  there  had  not  been 
numbered  a  clever  boat  maker,  who  employed  some  of  his  spare 
hours  in  his  favorite  occupation.  The  result  was  the  production  of 
a  very  sightly  boat,  superior  in  its  excellence  to  the  results  promised 
by  the  materials  obtainable  for  its  construction.  The  idea  of  using 
the  boat  was  conceived  by  Ruiz,  while  he  was  maturing  a  plan  to 
(•{jiry  out  the  mission  entrusted  to  him  by  the  Texan  commander. 
The  rescue  of  the  young  American  prisoner  was  but  an  incident, 
rMllin.ir  in  MS  a  parallel,  a  necessity  presenting  itself  and  appealing 
to  \\batever  of  human  feeling  lay  within  the  hearts  of  the  adven- 
turous spirits  who  were  to  constitute  the  media  for  the  prosecution 


338  GUY  EAYMOND. 

of  the  original  purpose.  Ruiz's  idea  at  once  commended  itself  to 
the  commander,  and  as  Guy's  fate  had  become  blended  with  the 
outcome  of  the  project,  the  former  had  urged  the  selection  of  Karnes 
and  the  members  of  the  mess  who  had,  through  Mr.  Trigg,  become 
more  than  interested  in  the  fortunes  of  the  youthful  prisoner.  P 
dilections  of  such  a  nature,  Ruiz  philosophically  contended,  would 
additional  force  towards  a  successful  accomplishment  of  the  dual 
purpose,  and  in  the  estimation  of  the  generous  Mexican,  the  minor 
and  incidental  aim  of  the  expedition  had  absorbed  in  importance 
its  previous  object. 

The  little  boat  sped  onward.  The  injunction  to  keep  silent  had 
been  heeded  by  the  men,  even  by  Hamilton,  who  more  than  once  was 
tempted  to  say  something  at  the  expense  of  his  comrade's  oarsman- 
ship. Indeed,  he  did  whisper  once  or  twice  to  Jones,  when  the 
latter  awkwardly  nudged  him  with  his  elbow,  while  bringing  his  oar 
handle  too  low  on  the  breast:  "Come,  Jones,  remember  the  Bast 
Indian  stroke — deeper  blade  and  higher  handle.  My  ribs  won't  stand 
two  more  pokes/' 

"Silence  there,  Mr.  Hamilton  !  Raise  your  oar,  sir — quick,  and 
duck  your  heads — there.  A  little  more  and  that  limb  would  have 
raked  the  boat." 

Karnes'  warning  came  just  in  time  to  prevent  an  accident.  In- 
deed, the  darkness  hanging  over  the  river  was  almost  impenetrable. 
The  starlight  could  not  counteract  the  shadows  from  the  banks  and 
foliage,  only  a  silver  glow  showed  itself  above,  the  contemplation  of 
which  but  augmented  the  difficulty  of  seeing  surrounding  objects. 

"I  heerd  a  voice,  Karnes,"  said  Nathan,  from  the  bow  of  the  boat. 

"Hark!      Men,  lay  upon  your  oars,"  commanded   Karnes,   in 
firm  undertone. 

All  was  silent.  The  boat,  which  had  just  entered  a  wide  wate 
hole,  deep  and  almost  still,  was  left  to  spend  its  momentum,  until 
it  hardly  moved.  Karnes  controlled  the  course  with  his  paddle,  but 
so  noiselessly  that  the  breaking  of  a  twig  on  the  bank  was  clear 
and  distinct  to  the  ear.  Still  further  cautions  for  silence  were 
whispered  from  the  stern  to  the  bow.  Roach  had  the  Indian  ears 
of  the  party.  He  alone  had  heard  the  voice.  All  but  Karnes 
doubted  his  correctness.  He  had  served  with  Nathan  and  had  learned 
to  respect  his  ears.  After  a  few  minutes'  suspense,  the  Mexican  guide 
Leaned  over  to  the  commander  and  whispered: 

"The   picket   is   camped   upon   the   bank.      Better   keep   quiet 
while  longer." 

The  moments  dragged. 


: 


le 

• 


GUY  RAYMOND.  339 

Finally  the  party  were  startled  by  the  sound  of  voices  in  the 
Mexican  tongue. 

"What  was  it?" 

"I  was  sure   I  heard  something." 

"What  was  it  like?" 

"Like  a  paddle  or  oar  against  a  boat,  and  it  seemed  to  me  I  saw 
^something  a  little  lighter  than  the  shadows  pass  along." 

"Que  tonto!  Don't  you  know  these  people  up  here  never  had  a 
boat?  If  there  is  a  boat  in  Bexar  I  have  yet  to  see  it.  It  is  one  of 
your  visions,  Santos.  You  are  always  seeing  things." 

"There  is  no  mistaking  the  noise  made  in  a  boat  on  the  water. 
A  fellow's  eyes  and  imagination  may  deceive  him,  but  his  ears  are 
apt  to  be  correct." 

"That  comes  of  you  being  once  a  sailor.  Sailors  are  supersti- 
tious. Come,  let  us  pack  the  water  up  the  bank,  for  it  is  nearly 
time  for  us  to  go  on  guard." 

Nathan  had  correct  ears  after  all,  and  it  was  well  that  silence 
reigned  in  the  boat,  as  the  speakers  on  the  bank  had  maintained  a 
death-like  quiet,  in  order  to  confirm  Santo's  first  impression.  No 
other  sounds  having  succeeded,  Santos'  companion  disclosed  their 
presence  by  his  question.  The  water  carriers  indicated  their  progress 
up  the  bank  by  their  lessening  voices,  which  finally  died  out  in  the 
distance. 

Karnes,  having  waited  for  this  moment,  now  slowed  the  boat 
along  until  it  had  made  a  headway  of  a  hundred  yards  or  more. 

"Now,  boys,  pull  steadily  and  quietly." 

Hamilton  answered  in  a  whispered  "Aye,  aye,  sir." 

"No  need  of  answering,  sir.  We  are  past  the  pickets,  and  now, 
Nathan,  keep  your  ears  and  eyes  open  for  anything  that  may  turn  up." 

"Mr.  Guide,  are  we  near  the  place?"  inquired  Karnes  of  the 
Mexican. 

"Another  bend  in  the  river." 

"Put  your  hand  on  my  knee  when  we  get  to  the  right  place." 

The  bend  was  rounded.  A  swift  current  swept  them  past  a 
rapid,  the  boat's  bottom  grazed  the  rocky  bed,  and  they  glided  into 
a  body  of  water  whose  smooth  surface  reflected  the  sparkling  firma- 
ment. 

The  guide's  hand  was  placed  upon  the  commander's  knee.  Karnes 
put  two  fingers  in  his  mouth  and  gave  a  shrill  whistle. 

A  voice  from  the  right  bank  called: 

"Karnes." 

The  answer  given  was: 


340  GUY  BAYMOND. 

"Kuiz." 

"Hold  up,  Mr.  Jones;  Mr.  Hamilton,  pull  away." 

The  boat  swung  around  to  the  right, 

"Now,  both  together." 

The  bow  grated  upon  the  sand  and  pebbles.     Nathan 
ashore  and  grasped  Euiz  by  the  hand. 

"Hold  her  to  the  bank,  boys.     I  must  have  a  talk  with  our  man* 
before  we  go  further.     Keep  quiet  and  you'll  soon  know  the  road 
we've  got  to  follow." 

So  saying,  Karnes  left  the  boat,  greeted  Euiz  cordially,  and  took 
him  aside  for  consultation. 


CHAPTEE  XLVIIT. 

The  day  on  which  Father  Ignacio  called  at  the  carcel  he  remained 
sufficiently  long  to  encroach  upon  the  dinner  hour  of  that  institution, 
much  to  the  annoyance  of  the  irascible  jailer,  who  upon  this  particu- 
lar time  was  anxious  to  have  the  hour  go  by  speedily,  and  had  ac- 
tually anticipated  noon  by  twenty  minutes  of  the  sun  dial. 

"These  padres  are  like  old  women  ;  they  never  know  how  long  they 
stay  to  gossip,  senor,"  Bonito  said  to  Guy,  as  he  placed  Candelario's 
basket  in  the  cell. 

"What  can  it  matter  to  you,  Bonito?     You  have  time,  and 
spare.     You  should  not  begrudge  me  the  good  Father's  visit." 

"Time,  senor !     I  have  much  to  do ;  much  to  do  today,  senor,  am 
I  would  be  thankful  if  you  will  hurry  up,  you  and  the  other,  and  eat 
your  dinner  so  that  this  afternoon  a  poor  devil  may  attend  to 
business." 

"Perhaps  I  can  help  you,  Bonito.     Let  me  assist  you  if  it  be  an; 
thing  around  the  carcel  or  your  quarters.     You  know  that  if  put 
my  parole  I  will  make  no  attempt  to  escape." 

"I  would  not  be  bothered  with  help ;  you  are  too  wise  now,  too 
wise  about  my  business.  Besides,  senor,  I  have  orders  to  allow  no  lib- 
erty to  you  whatever ;  none  whatever,  senor,  and  to  disobey  and  be 
discovered  would  be  to  lose  my  place,  which  would  be  no  loss  as  to 
pay,  but  then  at  my  age  one  hates  to  change,  senor." 

"I  see,  Bonito.  As  a  condemned  person,  condemned  to  death, 
strict  vigil  must  be  kept  over  me.  It  seems  to  me  they  might  wait 
until  time  for  the  death  watch.  Bonito,  is  there  no  chance  to  escape? 
Would  you  hold  me  here  until  these  tyrants  get  ready  to  murder  nn 
for  no  crime,  for  no  offense  against  the  law?" 

"How  can  I  help  you,  senor?     If  you  were  to  escape,  what  woul( 


:; 


: 


• 


GUY  RAYMOND.  341 


happen?     Bonito  would  not  only   lose  his  place.  bui    his  life. 
bullets  intended  for  you  would  ruler  uiv  vitals.     There  is  no  help  for 
it;  no  help  for  it,  sen  or.  v 

"Not  if  you  should  get  a  hundred  doubloons?" 

"Said  you  a  hundred,  senor,  or  two  hundred  ?" 

"Well,  two;  say  two  hundred." 

"If  it  were  two  and  fifty  ;  or  say  three  hundred  good  bright  doub- 
loons —  but  no  —  senor  —  no  —  there  is  no  use  to  talk  of  it.  A  thousand, 
with  no  chance  to  fly  from  the  devils  who  would  sit  in  judgment.  A 
thousand  —  nor  two  —  nor  three  —  Oh,  senor  !  it  cannot  be.  T  pity  you  ; 
yes,  pity,  but  who  pities  Bonito?  Eobbed  of  what  he  has  toiled  for 
and  almost  murdered  by  the  devil  who  robbed  him." 

"You  are  right,  Bonito,  to  refuse  a  bribe.  I  was  but  trying  you. 
Tf  you  have  a  post  of  duty,  fill  it  well,  be  it  never  so  repugnant  to 
your  tastes  and  feelings.  A  test  of  virtue  lies  in  filling  a  post  at  all 
whose  duties  outrage  the  finer  feelings  of  human  nature.  Tf  a  trust 
displeased  me  because  of  the  involvement  of  my  ideas  of  honor  and 
moral  duty,  I  would  resign  it.  The  discovery  of  my  false  position 
would  terminate  my  connection  with  and  make  it  impossible  to  betray 
it." 

"You  are  a  brave  pajarro,  as  I  said  at  first.  Bonito  is  a  coward. 
I  hate  my  work,  but  must  do  it  or  be  shot.  And  yet,  I  have  not  the 
courage  to  give  it  up  no  more  than  I  have  to  let  you  escape  for  twenty 
pesos.  But,  senor,  are  you  not  alarmed  at  the  idea  of  being  shot? 
Yo'i  look  as  contented  as  if  you  would  be  free  tomorrow,  and  the 
fellow  over  there  is  always  sleeping1  as  if  he  were  not  going  to  be  food 
for  the  worms  in  a  day  or  two.  You  are  a  queer  pair,  senor  ;  a  queer 
pair  of  birds." 

"There  is  no  use  fretting  over  it,  Bonito." 

"I  am  glad  you  are  through  eating.  Scrape  his  dinner  on  Ihnf 
plate.  It  looks  as  if  he  would  never  get  sober.  Ruiz  was  once  a 
caballero,  senor,  puro  caballero.  Now,  senor,  I  am  off.  Tf  you  will 
want  anything  tell  it  now,  for  you  will  not  see  me  until  the  night 
comes." 

With  assurances  that  nothing  would  be  needed,  the  jailer  shuffled 
off  after  securing  the  cell  door.  Jose,  who  was  impatiently  awaiting 
this  event,  came  out  of  his  corner  and  did  ample  justice  to  the  con- 
tents of  the  dish  upon  which  Guy  had  placed  his  meal.  Thr  la  Her 
drew  from  his  pocket  a  piece  of  paper  that  he  had  found  in  fho 
basket  and,  standing  close  to  llu1  gr.-iied  door.  rr;id  ;i  message  from 
T?ui/c.  He  \vroie  in  Ihe  prisoner  iliai  rvrrylliing  had  been  arranged 
for  his  escape  outside  of  the  city  and  that  he  must  be  out  of  his  cell, 


342  GUY  RAYMOND. 

either  in  the  jailer's  house  or  near  it,  so  as  to  be  within  call,  by  elev 
o'clock  on  Sunday  night.  If  he  should  discover  that  he  had 
the  power  to  release  himself,  his  absence  from  the  rendezvous  wou 
be  taken  as  proof  of  the  fact,  and  the  jail  would  be  raided  to  free  hi 
to  provide  himself  with  whatever  arms  he  would  find  available ;  to  co 
municate  with  Linda,  if  possible,  and  secure  whatever  assistance,  dir 
or  indirect,  she  could  offer  through  influence  with  or  deception  of  her 
father.  The  rescuers  would  be  in  need  of  every  favorable  circum- 
stance that  could  be  raised  towards  facilitating  their  venture  or  lessen- 
ing its  peril. 

Guy  grew  meditative  over  the  contents  of  the  paper.  He  was 
entirely  in  the  dark  as  to  the  means  to  be  used  for  his  release,  or  the 
method  of  gaining  an  entrance  into  the  heart  of  a  garrisoned  town 
ever  on  the  qui  vive  as  the  beseiged  of  an  active  and  fearless  enemy. 
He  concluded  that  it  was  about  time  to  make  sure  that  an  escape 
through  the  vault  was  open  to  him.  He  had  not  entered  it  since  the 
day  he  had  found  the  jailer  there  in  an  insensible  state  and  con- 
cluded to  let  Jose  into  the  secret,  and  that  afternoon,  especially,  as 
Bonito  was  to  be  out  of  the  way,  he  would  explore  the  subterranean 
chamber  and  fix  his  triggers  for  an  easy  passage  from  the  cell  to  the 
hall.  As  some  time  had  elapsed  since  Jose  had  completed  his  repast 
and  Guy  had  mentally  digested  a  plan  of  escape  and  its  possible  success 
or  failure,  he  concluded  to  draw  out  Jose's  opinion, of  the  vault  as  a 
means  of  egress  from  their  cell. 

"It  will,  of  course,  depend  upon  our  getting  into  it,  and  then  af 
we  get  into  it,  upon  our  getting  out  again,"  said  Jose. 

"We  certainly  will  be  able  to  get  back  here,  Jose,  if  we  don't  fi 
another  way  out." 

"It  is  forbidden  ground,   and  I  have  heard  it  hinted  that  the 
spirits  of  numbers  who  have  been  led  from  there  to  be  shot  make  thei 
visits  to  the  vault." 

"Afraid  of  spirits,  Jose?" 

"I  am  afraid  to  meet  them." 

"If  there  be  such  they  are  harmless.     It  is  from  the  living 
we  receive  injury,  and  they  are  the  ones  to  be  dreaded." 

"Everyone  has  his  notions,  Senor  Raymond.     I  have  the  grea 
dread  of  meeting  a  ghost." 

"Well,  Jose,  I  am  going  to  get  into  that  vault  this  very  day,  and 
will  go  alone  if  you  do  not  go  with  me.  I  am  going  to  soe  if  there 
is  not  a  way  to  get  out  at  flu;  other  end.  You  remember  luivin<j  told 
me  that  it  extends  from  Bonito's  house  towards  this  cell  and  I  thi 
I  can  find  the  entrance  in  this  floor." 


GUY  RAYMOND.  343 

ul  only  told  you  how  run  the  legend.  I  have  no  other  proof? 
that  the  vault  runs  underneath  us.  I  would  advise  you  to  think  well 
before  going  into  this  place  if  you  should  find  the  way  to  it.  It  may 
bring  upon  you  the  curse  of  the  saints,  which  will  be  the  worse  for 
yon,  seeing  that  you  are  already  in  bad  odor  with  them  as  a  heretic. 
Senor,  take  the  advice  of  a  friend." 

"1  fully  appreciate  your  anxiety  for  myself  if  I  do  not  feel  the 

force  of  your  logic.  1  will  invoke  the  aid  of  Saint  An what  the 

deuce  is  that  noise.  Jose?" 

This  question  was  put  to  the  major  domo  on  account  of  a  pound- 
ing noise  which  arose  from  the  depths  below.  It  came  in  dull  thuds, 
which  struggled  up  through  the  masonry  with  singular  regularity, 
making  the  floor  vibrate  very  sensibly  to  one  standing  upon  it. 

"It  is  n  iruo  warning  to  you,  senor/'  said  Jose,  looking  grave  and 
lisi oiling  intently. 

"The  spirits  signifying  their  disapprobation?" 

"No  mas — no  menos." 

The  noise  proceeded — pick — pick — pick — while  the  prisoners  ceased 
talking,  the  one  in  actual  dread  of  supernatural  displeasure,  the  other 
from  sheer  curiosity  to  solve  the  cause  of  the  noise.  Guy  was  not  very 
long  in  coming  in  a  conclusion.  The  statement  of  the  jailer  that  lie 
would  be  busy  during  the  afternoon,  with  the  knowledge  that  he  had 
a  deal  of  treasure  in  the  vault  which  he  was  anxious  to  conceal  still 
more  securely,  since  the  raid  made  upon  it,  and  the  knowledge  of  the 
secret  lay  at  least  with  two  outsiders,  had  doubtless  put  Bonito  to 
work  to  l'n ni ish  better  concealment  for  his  gold. 

Guy,  of  course,  did  not  tell  his  suspicions  to  his  fellow  prisoner, 
bnl  continued  to  d^aw  -lose  out  on  the  probably  supernatural  source 
of  the  noise  until  he  grew  tired  of  the  amusement. 

When,  after  a  long  iinie.  I  he  thumping  ceased,  he  concluded  to  lake 
in  a  view  of  the  mysterious  operations  of  Jose's  alleged  spirits. 
Acting  upon  this  intention,  he  secured  his  former  tool  and  after  awhile 
had  cleared  the  great  square  flag  of  all  contact  with  its  neighbor 
stones.  Jose  looked  on  with  an  expression  of  unqualified  disapproba- 
tion during  the  progress  of  the  work.  All  being  ready.  Guy  invoked 
his  assistance1  to  raise  the  flag,  but  was  persistently  refused  by  the 
superstitious  counterfeit  of  the  gallant  Euiz.  Seeing  no  other  re- 
course he  concluded  to  proceed  as  on  the  former  occasion  and.  after  a 
rather  diilicult  lift,  he  had  the  salisfaction  of  seeing  I  he  weighty  cover 
of  Ihe  trap  in  a  veriical  position.  It  was  done  so  noiselessly  ihat  it 
couM  have  disturbed  none  of  tin*  supernatural  inhabitants  of  the  dark 
apartment  that  was  now  disclosed  to  the  eyes  of  the  astonished  Jose. 


344  GUY  EAYMOND. 

"May  the  all  powerful  Saint  Anthony  protect  us!"  he  exclaim 
as  he  retreated  to  the  other  end  of  the  cell. 

— h  I"  cautioned  Guy,  as  he  arose  from  a  peep  into  the  place 

The  other  relapsed  at  once  into  silence  nnd  covered  his  eyes. 

The  look  below  with  a  subsequent  scrutiny  of  affairs  solved  tli 
mystery  to  Guy's  practical  mind,  while  his  companion  was  in  absolute 
dread  lest  some  supernatural  expression  of  displeasure  was  about  to 
occur. 

The  first  glance  disclosed  a  glimmer  of  a,  light  just  making  its 
appearance,  followed  by  Bonito  holding  up  a  candle.  Guy  looked  up 
and  silenced  Jose,  then  returned  to  his  surveillance  of  his  unbribable 
turnkey.  Bonito  was  at  the  work  of  concealing  his  treasure,  and  not 
knowing  that  the  opening  in  the  cell  had  been  discovered,  he  felt 
perfectly  safe  from  espionage  from  that  direction.  When  Guy  wit- 
nessed the  transfer  of  the  contents  of  the  chest  to  the  hole  in  the  wall, 
he  deemed  the  superstition,  which  confined  the  number  of  witnesses 
to  himself,  a  fortunate  circumstance  for  Bonito.  When  the  latter 
had  concluded  his  operations  it  was,  as  the  reader  knows,  quite  well 
into  the  night.  The  intermission  in  his  work  was  confined  to  the 
duty  of  attending  to  the  prisoners'  supper.  This  Guy  received  at  the 
door  writh  an  immediate  return  of  the  basket  and  assurances  that 
nothing  more  was  needed  of  him. 


the 


CHAPTER  XL1X. 


arried 


Despite  Jose's  fears,  he  was  fast  asleep  when  Bonito  had  carri 
his  last  load  of  dirt  to  the  hall  and  bade  Linda  good  night.  Guy, 
less  material,  witnessed  the  disappearance  of  the  light  and,  hearing- 
no  return  of  the  tired  worker,  resolved  to'  explore  the  scene  of  his 
operations.  To  this  end  he  lit  his  candle  and  cautiously  descended 
through  the  opening  arid  found  himself  on  the  flagged  floor  below. 
He  experienced  a  tremor  through  his  frame  as  the  damp  air  of  t 
chamber  penetrated  to  his  skin.  Before  him  the  empty  chest  la\ 
closed.  Directing  the  light  against  the  wall  where  he  had  seen  the 
miser  place  his  money,  he  was  much  astonished  to  find  no  apparent 
traces  of  the  closing  up  of  the  hole  that  must  have  received  it,  A 
very  close  scrutiny,  however,  revealed  the  careful  work,  whose  perfec- 
tion had  been  doubtless  inspired  by  tlie  superlative  earnest  ness  of  the 
money  worshipper  to  conceal  the  evidences  of  his  secret.  Guv  turned 
from  the  inspection  to  view  the  opposite  steps  loading  to  the  jailor's 
nbode.  He  ascended  to  Hie  top,  bill  could  not  discover  the  lever  th 
would  lift  the  trap  which  barred  the  exit.  Concluding  to  not  inves 


MII 

i 


GUY  RAYMOND..  345 

gate!  further  until  the  morrow,  he  returned  to  his  cell  and  to  his 
pallet,  not  to  sleep,  however,,  for  the  prospect  of  escape  on  the  morrow, 
coupled  with  the  manoeuvres  of  Bonito  in  the  vault,  caused  his  mind 
to  wander  from  the  probabilities  of  success  in  plans  of  Ruiz  to  the 
miser  whose  soul  was  so  engrossed  with  the  safety  of  his  treasure. 
In  the  hope  of  better  wooing  sleep  he  put  out  his  light.  Still,  as  the 
minutes  grew  to  an  hour,  he  realized  no  nearer  approach  to  a  disposi- 
tion to  sleep.  How  he  envied  Jose,  whose  pronounced  respiration  was 
ever  and  anon  broken  by  the  catches  of  a  snore.  The  idea  struck  him 
to  renew  his  light  and  try  the  plan  to  read  himself  sleepy.  To  carry 
out  this  purpose,  he  rose  to  a  sitting  position,  when  he  was  startled 
by  the  appearance  of  a  light  shining  faintly  at  first,  then  growing  more 
distinct,  from  the  opening  leading  into  the  vault.  Bonito,  he  conclud- 
ed, had  been  also  lying  awake  and,  to  occupy  himself,  had  returned 
to  become  satisfied  on  some  doubted  point  which  had  raised  itself  in 
his  speculations  as  to  the  complete  removal  of  the  evidences  of  his 
new  place  of  concealment  for  his  money  bags.  At  any  rate,  he  would 
take  a  peep  at  the  jailer  and  amuse  himself  by  watching  him.  The 
cell  was  dark  and  there  was  little  chance  of  the  miser's  inspection  of 
the  cell  opening. 

So  Guy  peeped  below. 

He  was  not  a  little  startled  to  see  instead  of  the  rotund  figure 
of  Bonito,  a  tall,  spare  form  with  sharp  well  defined  features  and  dark 
complexion,  all  made  plainly  distinct  by  the  light  of  the  uplifted 
candle,  as  its  holder  contemplated  the  empty  chest  at  his  feet.  From 
the  description  given  of  Ducio  Halfen  by  Jose,  Guy  was  satisfied  that 
the  intruder  was  the  Creole,  and  that  he  it  was  who  had  made  the 
assault  on  the  miser  and  had  despoiled  him  of  his  doubloons.  Doubt- 
less he  had  returned  to  make  another  inroad  on  the  savings  of  his  vic- 
tim, but  the  latter  had  forestalled  him  in  the  nick  of  time.  The  in- 
truder might  extend  his  exploration  to  the  stairs  leading  to  .the  cell. 
At  this  thought,  Guy  reached  for  the  knife  that  had  served  him  in 
cleaning  around  the  flag  still  standing  upon  its  edge  above  him.  The 
swarthy  face  below  wore  an  expression  of  disappointment.  The  look 
of  baffled  intent  mingled  with  the  scowl  of  some  evil  purpose  which 
might  mean  mischief  worse  than  robbery.  The  floor  and  walls  were 
scanned  with  the  earnestness  of  intense  desire;  then  seizing  the  stool 
Ducio  struck  the  floor  flags  all  around  him,  as  if  sounding  to  discover 
a  hollow  place  whence  had  issued  the  evidences  of  the  sand  and  debris 
on  the  unswept  floor  and  stairway.  It  did  not  seem  to  occur  to  him 
that  the  walls  could  be  excavated.  Ducio  sat  down  to  think. 

Thought,  however,  afforded  neither  a  clue  to  the  whereabouts  of 


346  .Guy  RAYMOND. 

the  treasure  nor  any  panacea  for  the  acuteness  of  the  disappointm 
which  racked  his  mind. 

Ideas  suggestive  of  revenge  crowded  upon  him.  Revenge  for  d 
priving  him  of  his  anticipated  booty.  What  use  was  all  that  hoard 
which  the  chest,  now  serving  him  for  a  seat,  had  once  contained. 
Fool !  Why  had  he  not  packed  it  all  away  to  a  place  of  concealment 
when  the  opportunity  was  not  wanting?  His  thoughts  flew  for  an 
instant  to  the  island  treasure,  and  he  started  suddenly  from  his  seat. 
"I'll  stick  around  here  until  that,  too,  will  be  gone." 

But  the  impatience  of  his  present  predicament  reseized  him  with 
still  more  potent  force  and  raged  within  him,  expending  itself  in  a  rapid 
pacing  of  the  chamber,  followed  by  vigorous  blows  on  the  floor.  Per- 
haps there  was  a  latent  influence  in  the  vast  sum  which  a  thin  crust 
of  rock  concealed,  and  which  now  and  then,  as  he  moved  about,  was 
in  less  than  reaching  distance;  an  influence  undefined  and  mysteri- 
ous that  held  him  just  without  the  bounds  of  prescience  and  goaded 
him  to  the  verge  of  desperation. 

Guy  viewed  the  whole  scene  with  varying  emotions. 

Amusement  at  the  other's  dilemma,  which  a  word  from  himself 
could  dissipate  as  to  the  locality  of  the  former  contents  of  Bonito's 
chest,  first  succeeded  the  surprise  of  the  intruder's  identity.  Indig- 
nation followed  when  he  thought  of  the  rascality  that  made  him  take 
advantage  of  the  jailer's  hospitality.  Then  he  became  alarmed  when 
on  reflecting  as  to  the  means  used  to  enter  the  vault,  he  began  to 
speculate  as  to  whether  the  robber  had  used  intimidation  or  violence, 
or  both.  How  had  he  got  into  the  jailer's  apartments?  Not  through 
the  court,  for  there  was  the  sentinel.  He  knew  of  no  other  entrance 
to  the  place  except  that  through  Linda's  garden  and  her  apartment. 
The  latter  thought  aroused  him  to  almost  the  pitch  of  excitement. 
The  scoundrel  may  have  committed  the  crime  of  murder  as  a  necessary 
step  to  gain  access  to  the  hall.  Guy  grasped  his  knife  still  tighter. 
Ducio,  after  having  paused  for  some  minutes  in  deep  study,  seeme 
to  have  suddenly  fastened  upon  a  purpose.  He  took  the  candle  fro 
the  chest  and  made  directly  for  the  steps  down  which  he  had  descend 

So  soon  as  Guy  became  satisfied  of  the  other's  purpose,  he  lighted 
his  candle  and,  shaking  Jose  roughly,  caused  him  to  spring  up  an 
glance  wildly  about. 

"For  Dios !  senor ;  my  arm  is  but  flesh  and  bone." 

"Pardon  me,  Jose,  but  I  wanted  to  awake  you  and  do  it  quickl 
Clear  your  eyes  and  open  your  ears  and  listen  to  what  I  tell  you.'' 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  purpose  of  Ducio,  ;i<  interpreted  by 
the  watcher,  his  actions  will  probably  be  the  best  indicators  of  the  con- 
clusion which  terminated  his  few  moments'  reflection. 


GUY  EAYMOND.  347 

He  gained  the  hall  and  placing  his  light  on  one  end  of  the  lounge, 
he  cautiously  approached  the  door  of  the  jailer's  room.  Here  he 
listened.  The  regular  breathing  of  the  inmate  denoted  slmnhcr  and 
Ducio,  returning  for  his  light,  entered  the  chamber.  The  light  he 
placed  upon  the  table  so  as  not  to  shine  upon  the  sleeper's  eyes. 
He  then  made  a  search  of  the  entire  room  and  feeling  stealthily  under 
a  pillow  of  the  bed,  he  drew  forth  a  long  dagger. 

"As  I  expected/'  thought  Ducio.  "Now  we  will  see  if  the  old 
rascal  will  tell." 

He  caught  the  jailer  by  the  great  toe  and  gave  it  a  vigorous  twist. 

"Carrajo !"  swore  Bonito,  jumping  to  a  sitting  position.  "Can  a 
dream  be  so  true  ?" 

Ducio  had  dodged  below  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

"Santa  Maria!  But  that* rock  did  not  fall  on  my  foot,  dream  or 
no  dream.  I  thought  I  put  out  the  light,  but  I — was — so  tired/'  he 
continued,  yawning,  "that  I  forgot  it.  But  the  more  I  get  awake 
the  more  I  wonder.  I  dreamed  that  a  piece  of  that  rock  from  the  wall 
fell  upon  my  toe  as  I  was  closing  up  the  last  open  place,  and  the  dream 
was  so  clear  that  I  felt  the  pain  in  this  toe." 

As  Bonito  said  this  in  an  audible  tone,  he  raised  his  foot  on  the 
table  close  to  the  candle  and  examined  the  wrenched  member. 

"Por  mi  vida !  There  is  no  mash,  but  the  pain  was  there,  and  I 
feel  it  yet,  And  yet  that  tonta  Linda  will  not  believe  in  dreams. 
I  only  wish  she  could  have  such  a  dream  and  such  a  toe  mashing,  or  toe 
paining,  for  really  there  is  no  mash.  How  hard  I  must  have  been 
dreaming !" 

Bonito,  after  sundry  other  looks  at  the  toe  which  Ducio  had  twisted, 
took  the 'candle  from  the  table  and  placing  it  in  a  small  alcove  near 
the  head  of  his  bed,  blew  it  out  and  retired  again  to  rest,  but  not  to 
sleep  for  wondering  about  his  dream  and  how  mistaken  he  had  been 
in  supposing  that  he  had  blown  out  his  candle  when  he  first  went  to 
bed. 

Ducio  had  not  counted  on  the  dream  nor  on  the  extinguishment 
of  the  light,  nor  had  he  anticipated  the  voluntary  acknowledgment 
from  Bonito  in  his  own  self  communion  that  lie  had  hid  his  money  in 
the  wall  and  not  the  floor  of  the  vault.  He  had  calculated  on  a 
forced  confession  and  an  indication  of  the  place  from  Bonito.  Still 
he  dreaded  the  consequences  of  force  and  what  it  might  lead  to,  and 
concluded  that  he  would  return  to  the  vault  and  sound  the  walls.  The 
work  was  fresh  and  a  careful  inspection  must  disclose  tin-  place. 
He  must  have  a  light,  but  the  candle  \vas  out  of  the  question,  it 
was  too  near  the  head  of  the  occupant  of  the  bed.  He  concluded  to 


348  GUY  RAYMOND. 


less; 


go  to  Linda's  room  and  get  her  light.  Tt  was  a  risk,  hut  the 
the  two.  He  glided,  like  a  snake,  from  the  room  on.  all  fours.  As- 
suming an  erect  position  on  entering  the  hall,  he  groped  his  way  to 
Linda's  room,  which  he  was  about  to  enter  when  he  perceived  a  light 
emerging  from  the  open  trap  in  the  end  of  the  lounge.  Sure  that  he 
had  left  the  vault  in  darkness,  he  was  mystified  at  the  sight. 

Ducio  listened. 

Confident  that  he  heard  whispered  voices,  he  was  also  certain 
that  the  light  was  getting  stronger,  indicating  that  some  one  holding 
it  was  approaching  nearer. 

Goaded  by  the  sense  of  danger  and  irritated  by  the  intervention 
of  an  additional  obstacle  to  the  success  of  his  contemplated  dispolia- 
tion  of  the  miser.,  Ducio  retreated  within  the  room.  His  first  precau- 
tion was  to  provide  for  an  escape.  Tfi  this  end  he  unfastened  and 
placed  ajar  the  garden  exit  from  the  apartment,  after  he  had  similarly 
adjusted  the  gate  entrance  from  the  plaza.  This  effected,  he  breathed 
easier,  while  he  took  his  post  at  the  hall  door  which  he  had  already 
secured.  The  villain's  movements  had  been  so  noiseless  that  the 
sleeping  girl  had  not  been  disturbed. 

The  listener  had  not  long  to  wait  for  indications  that  there  were 
others  in  the  house  besides  himself,  the  jailer  and  his  daughter. 

Guy  related  in  hurried  tones  to  Jose  that  there  was  a  robber  in  the 
! vault  and  that  he  wanted  his  assistance  to  prevent  him  from  dis- 
poiling  the  jailer,  and  to  see  that  no  harm  would  befall  Bonito  or 
Linda. 

"Robber,  senor !  There  is  nothing  in  the  vault  to  steal.  Besides 
how  do  you  judge?  Tf  it  is  by  the  noise  it  is  only  some  poor  restles.-? 
spirit  that— 

"Come,  Jose !  No  foolishness,  or  I  will  go  without  you.  True, 
he  does  not  know.  Jose,  I've  found  the  way  into  the  vault.  See! 
Here's  the  stone  uplifted — come  if  you  are  my  friend — if  you  love 
the  memory  of  your  mother — if  you  love  Father  Tgnacio — come  follow 
me  and  assist  me  to  protect  life  and  innocence." 

"Saint  Anthony  help  us!"  said  Jose,  rising.  "The  stone  is  up 
and  the  vault  shows  itself.  Senor,  you  are  not  going  down  there !'' 

"Follow  me,  Jose,"  said   Guy,  descending  with   the  light;  "F 
been  down  here  before." 

"He  has  seen  a  ghost!"  said  Jose,  shuddering.  "He  has  been 
down  among  the  spirits  and  they  have  upset  his  reason.  Now  he 
wants  to  drag  me  down  to  meet  the  same  fate.  Senor !  Senor  Ray- 
mond ."' 

"Come  on,  Jose,  or  I  will  believe  you  arc  ;i  coward." 


GUY  EAYMOND.  ::  |!> 


"He  said  by  the  memory  of  my  mother,"  said  Jose,  peering 
after  Guy.      "I  like  Father  Ignacio,  too,  but  my  mother !      !  !<• 


down 

my  mother  !     He  knew 

my  soft  spot — Senor  Raymond.     For  the  love  of  the  memory  of  my 
mother  I  will  brave  even  a  ghost,  Senor ;  I  am  coming." 

Guy  awaited  Jose,  who  appeared  after  a  short  time  bearing  a 
heavy  bar  which  had  been  discarded  from  some  former  use  around 
the  jail  and  had  been  appropriated  by  the  present  inmates  of  flic  cdl 
as  a  clothes  rack,  placed  laterally,  the  ends  resting  in  crevices  of  the 
walls. 

"You  took  a  time  to  make  up  your  mind,"  said  Guy,  in  an  impa- 
tient undertone.  "It  took  an  age  to  get  you  fairly  awake,  and  Him 
another  to  explain  to  you  about  the  vault  and  what  I  wanted,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  I  never  would  get  the  candle  lighted.  The  fellow  has  had 
time  to  get  not  only  out  of  the  house,  but  out  of  the  {own  ale 

"If  it  was  a  ghost  it  could  be  now  out  of  the  world,  senor;  ghosts 
take  no  account  of  distance  and  I've  been  told— 

"No  time  for  ghost  stories,  Senor  Jose;  the  party  1  saw  was  flesh 
and  blood  and  far  more  dangerous  than  a  thousand  ghosts.  Keep 
silent  and  follow  me  if  you  are  worthy  the  name  of  man." 

The  major  domo  eyed  the  chest  and  stool  curiously  as  he  passed 
them  and  gave  timid  glances  around  the  narrow  passway  as  if  he  were 
in  dread  of  heholdng  some  supernatural  demonstration,  lie  reluct- 
antly obeyed  the  mandate  to  remain  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  while  his 
commander  went  up  cautiously  to  listen.  No  sounds  having  reached 
him  after  some  minutes,  he  signalled  the  other  to  follow,  while  he 
brought  the  light  forward  to  throw  its  rays  into  the  hall. 

The  trap  had  been  left  open  so  that  there  was  no  trouble  or  delay 
in  gaining  the  floor  above.  Guy  wailed  for  his  companion  to  join 
him,  then  posting  him  in  the  hall  with  instructions  how  to  act  in 
case  the  party  hunted  should  make  his  appearance,  he  drew  his  knife 
and  advanced  upon  Bonito's  room.  As  he  passed  Linda's  door  he 
thought  he  caught  a  slight  sound  like  the  click  of  a  lock,  but  after 
pausing  a  moment,  he  held  the  light  well  up  and  entered  the  old 
jailer's  sanctum.  The  stillness  wras  deathlike.  Guy's  form  was 
shaded  by  the  shadow  of  his  left  hand  while  the  light  was  reflected 
from  the  long  keen  blade  of  the  knife  held  in  the  right.  The  room, 
almost  bare  of  furniture,  was  quickly  taken  in  by  the  eager  eye  of 
the  youth,  who  saw  only  the  burly  form  of  his  jailer  lying  beneath 
the  light  covering  of  his  bed.  He  still  stood  in  the  doorway,  the 
candle  illuminating  the  room  and  dimly  showing  in  the  hall  the  ex- 

.inf  atlitude  of  Jose  with  liis  bar  held  at  a  ready,  his  own  position 
completing  a  tableau  that  portended  the  imminence  of  a  tragical 


350  GUY  RAYMOND. 

event.  Bonito,  who  had  only  been  lying  with  closed  eyes,  ruminj 
ing  on  the  strange  realism  that  sometimes  characterized  dreams,  sud- 
denly opened  his  eyes  to  see  the  light  of  Guy'*  candle  on  the  opposite 
wall.  With!  an  ejaculation  as  to  the  astounding  persistency  of  his 
candle  to  be  lighted,  he  turned  over  towards- the  door  to  take  in  the 
alarming  situation  of  a  man  blocking  the  exit  from  his  room  with  an 
uplifted  candle  and  gleaming  dagger. 

Was  it  a  dream? 

Bonito  rubbed  his  eyes  the  second  time. 

Despite  the  gravity  of  the  situation,  Guy  could  scarcely  repress  a 
smile. 

The  shadow  across  Guy's  features,  even  had  Bonito's  vision  been 
free  from  the  confusing  influences  of  a  sudden  awakening,  would 
have  concealed  his  identity  from  his  jailer,  who  supposed  him  safely 
secured  in  his  cell. 

"Por  Dios !  What  a  night  is  this !  My  toe  is  twisted  off  or 
mashed  in  a  dream,  and  here  is  a  ghost  that  stands  like  a  statue, 
burning  up  my  candle.  He  has  even  taken  my  dagger,  for  it  is  gone 
from  under  my  head.  Between  my  night's  work  and  nightmare,  T 
will  be  dead  on  my  feet  for  the  next  week.  Senor  ghost,  what  do  you 
want  with  Bonito?" 

If  Guy  had  had  any  of  the  superstitious  in  his  composition  he 
would  have  begun  to  doubt  his  own  sense  of  sight,  and  would  have 
attributed  the  fact  of  Ducio's  visit  to  the  vault  to  be  supernatural. 
The  house  was  quiet,  and  with  Linda's  apartment  unexplored,  there 
appeared  to  be  no  intruder  upon  the  privacy  of  the  household.  His 
well  meant  act  of  intervention  between  its  inmates  and  harm  was 
about  to  be  turned  into  a  ghostly  visitation,  or  worse.  If  Bonito 
recognized  him,  what  degree  of  pursuasion  would  it  require  to  make 
him  believe  that  he,  who  so  well  knew  of  his  treasure,  had  not  come 
to  murder  him  in  his  sleep  that  he  might  secure  it.  The  miser  had 
not  forgiven  him  for  the  knowledge,  and  his  discovery  in  an  attitude 
so  apparently  compromising  would  confirm  his  hostility  despite  the 
truthful  story  of  Ducio's  visit  to  the  vault.  Guy  reflected  that  he 
would  be  but  a  few  more  hours  in  the  carcel  and  it  would  not  facilitate 
his  departure  to  heighten  the  antagonism  of  his  jailer.  All  this 
flashed  through  his  quick  mind  with  the  rapidity  of  a  lightning  stroke 
and  he  determined  to  make  use  of  the  other's  superstition. 
"You  are  the  jailer?" 
"Did  I  not  say  I  am  Bonito?" 
*  As  a  spirit  I  knew  it ;  but  reply  to  my  questions." 
"Well,  Senor  Ghost,  if  you  will  it;  I  am  the  jailer." 


GUY  RAYMOND.  351 

"You  have  a  prisoner — one  Guy  Raymond?" 

"You  are  right.     I  nicknamed  him  el  pajarro." 

"He  is  your  friend.     He  saved  your  life  in  the  vault." 

"Truly  you  know  it — but  then  you  are  a  spirit." 

"He  did  what  you  think  is  a  greater  service;  he  saved  your  gold." 

"My  gold !     Yes,  you  are  a  spirit  and  a  spirit  knows." 

"If  you  doubt  it  I  will  tell  you  where  you  have  now  hid  your 
money.  It  is  no  longer  in  the  chest,  but  with  pick  and  mallet  and 
chisel  you  made  a  place  in  the  left  wall,  the  height  of  your  breast, 
and  in  this  hole  you  put  your  bags,  and  when  you  had  them  all 
in  you  took  trowel  and  mortar  and  cement  and  closed  the  hole,  point- 
ing off  the  cracks  with  great  skill  and  hiding  the  freshness  of  the 

•k." 

"Oh,  you  know — you  know !" 

"Listen  until  I  finish.  And  then  to  hide  your  work  you  brought 
up  all  the  sand  and  rock  that  composed  the  debris  of  the  excavation. 
But,  Bonito,  you  neglected  to  sweep  the  floor.  It  was  an  oversight." 

"I  was  so  tired,  Mr.  Ghost — so  tired." 

An  enemy  has  been  in  the  vault.  He  who  robbed  you  before  and 
loft,  you  for  dead  has  discovered  that  your  gold  has  been  moved,  but 
it  is  yet  safe.  Take  the  advice  of  a  spirit  and  send  it  to  a  safe  place 
of  deposit,  when  you  should  make  over  a  good  amount  to  Linda — your 
daughter." 

"Oh,  senor  spirit,  I  could  not  trust  it  to  human  hands.  I  will 
move  it  again,  and  when  I  am  dead  Linda  shall  know  and— 

"It  is  but  advice;  do  with  the  money  as  you  like,  for  it  is  the 
dross  of  earth.  Your  soul  is  everything.  Bonito  you  are  a  way- 
ward man.  It  has  been  ten  years  since  you  went  to  confession." 

"You  are  a  spirit;  it  was  ten  last  Easter.  Oh,  Senor  Ghost,  if  you 
will  tell  me  a  safe  place  for  my  doubloons  I  will  go  to  my  duties 
often." 

"I  cannot.  Money  is  of  earth  and  spirits  would  go  out  of  their 
mission  if  they  should  pander  to  human  greed  for  riches.  Tlioy  deal 
only  with  the  soul,  with  character  and  mind.  Money  is  of  the  flesh, 
and  is  condemned  by  the  saintly  who  love  God." 

"But  the  church  manages  to  get  its  share  and— 

"Silence!  Criticize  not  the  church,  or  the  loss  of  both  your 
doubloons  and  soul  will  leave  you  the  sport  of  men  and  devils." 

"I  am  dumb,  Senor  Spirit ;  but  I  would  ask  you  a  question  about 
my  prisoner." 

"You  shall  be  answered." 

rill  Senor  Raymond  betray  my  secret?" 


352  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"It  is  safe  with  him  as  with  me." 

"He  would  not  rob  me  ?" 

"You  might  as  well  suspect  me  of  intending  to  rob  you." 

"Es  un  buen  pajarro." 

"You  should  show  him  your  gratitude." 

"I  could  not  spare  a  doubloon,  seeing  I  was  robbed." 

"He  despises  your  money.     His  honor   weighs   a   thousand 
more  than  all  your  hoarded  gold.     Give  him  his  liberty." 

"I  would  be  shot." 

"Allow  him  to  break  jail." 

"I  cannot." 

"I  will  make  it  easy  for  you." 

"How?" 

"Have  your  guard  doubled  and  get  permission  to  be  absent  this 
Sunday  night  from  ten  until  two.  If  he  escapes  while  you  are  away 
there  is  no  law, or  precedent  for  your  accountability.  I  tell  you  as  an 
immortal  spirit  that  you  will  never  suffer  for  it." 

"Then  I  will  do  it;  but,  senor  spirit,  would  it  not  be  right  I 
should  be  paid  something  if  but  a  few  pesos  for  such  a — 

"Miserable  mortal !  Would  you  ask  pesos  from  your  savior  who 
does  not  own  centados  where  you  have  bright  doubloons.  I  know  the 
contents  of  each  of  your  strong  bags,  which  are  fairly  bursting  with 
their  load  of  coin — for  shame,  Bonito  !" 

"I  am  ashamed,  Senor  Spirit,  but  it  would  not  hurt  any  one  coi 
demned  to  die  to  pay  a  few  reals — at  least — for  liberty." 

"He  is  generous,  this  young  American,  and  will   doubtless  hel] 
you  hereafter." 

"He  shall  have  the  chance ;  but  it  will  be  no  use." 

"Then  you  promise." 

"I  promise." 

"Then  I  give  you  my  blessing,   frail  mortal,  and  in  leaving   1 
charge  you  to  remain  in  your  room  here  until  the  time  for  rising. 
and  to  never  tell  to  mortal  of  my  visit.     Upon  these  conditions  will 
I  guard  your  treasure  and  warn  you  should  I  ever  know  that  you  wil 
be  in  danger  of  loss." 

"Good  spirit,  Bonito  will  obey." 

"Good-night — and — remember." 

"Good-night,  good  ghost." 

Guy  backed  out  of  the  door  with  a  slow  and  ghostly  stop  11111 
got  beyond  the  sight  of  the  victimized  jnilcr.  lie  rejoined  Jose,  who 
was  rather  impatiently  awaiting  his  return  or  (lie  showing  up  of  some 
object  upon  which  to  test  the  efficiency  of  his  weapon.  The  adventure 


GUY  RAYMOND.  ,353 

had  liar]  results  so  different  from  the  anticipated  oiiicoinn  thai  fliiv 
was  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do.  He  had  certainly  seen  the  fellow 
in  the  vault,  hut  lie  had  left  no  traces  In-hind,  and  there  was  nothing 
to  indicate  that  he  had  made  his  exif  from  ilie  house.  Ills  practical 
mind  conceived  the  necessity,  under  the  circumstances,  of  keeping  a 
watch  until  morning  in  order  to  prevent  any  harm  coming  to  Linda 
or  her  father  from  the  would  he  rohher  who,  defeated  in  the  discovery 
of  the  gold,  might  resort  to  force  to  corn-pel  a  disclosure  from  tin1 
household.  TTe  had  no  use  for  the  superstitious  Jose  and  determined 
to  see  him  back  to  the  cell  before  lie  took  a  position  to  watch.  He 
accordingly  carried  out  the  first  part  of  this  intention  with  difficulty, 
putting  off  replies  to  a  score  of  questions  from  Jose  until  a  more 
timely  season  for  explanations. 

("Juy,  a  Her  cautioning  the  other  to  remain  quietly  in  the  cell  until 
his  return,  went  hack  to  the  hall  and  toold  a  reclining  position  on 
the  lounge. 

When  Dncio  entered  Linda's  garden  to  arrange  the  gate  for  a 
rapid  exit  in  retreat,  he  did  not  notice  a  crouching  figure  in  the 
corner  he  had  so  lately  occupied  when  Ruiz  was  passing  out  wilh  the 
fair  owner.  The  figure  arose  into  plain  view  the  moment  he  re- 
entered  the  room  and,  creeping  close  to  the  door,  bent  forward  as  if 
peeping  through  the  crack. 

It  had  the  slight  form  of  a  youth,  and  as  he  leaned  over  the  droop- 
ing ends  of  a  sash,  touched  the  tops  of  the  plants  which  covered 
the  bed  ending  at  the  door. 

"The  miscreant!  What  can  be  his  business  here  at  this  time  of 
night?  This  simpering  innocent  has  strange  company  at  stranger 
hours.  We'll  see  if  their  spooning  is  not  made  notorious,  even  if  il 
costs  the  fair  name  of  a  Pe  la  Torre/' 

These  muttered  words  greeted  no  ear,  but  they  came  from  deter- 
mined lips,  and  voiced  the  emotions  of  a  fiercely  beating  heart.  Ducio 
had  been  watched  and  the  wafcher  had  noted  his  disappearance 
over  the  wall  of  the  garden.  Ruiz  had  gone  before  the  appearance 
on  the  secne  of  this  youth,  who  had  been  impatiently  Availing  for 
Ducio  to  show  himself.  The  hitter's  egress  to  fix  the  gate  and  sub- 
sequent return  was  not  understood  and  only  served  to  irritale  the 
watcher. 

Due.io  at  last  felt  satisfied  that  whoever  had  been  talking  in  the 
hall  had  retired  out  of  hearing,  but  this  gave  him  no  confidence 
in  the  safetv  to  himself  of  a  further  search  in  the  vault.  Who  the 
parties  could  he  was  to  him  a  mystery.  This  alone  deterred  him. 
He  had  little  fear  where?  things  were  plain  of  solution,  but  he 


354  GUY  RAYMOND. 


it  cast 


dreaded  the  mysterious  enough  to  avoid  risking  his  life  where  it 
its  shadow  of  doubt.  He  felt  inclined  to  knife  Bonito  or  to  commit 
some  diabolical  act  to  balance  the  disappointment.  He  had  brought 
chloroform  with  him  to  administer  to  the  jailer.  He  cursed  himself 
for  not  having  used  it  instead  of  wrenching  his  great  toe.  The 
miser's  monologue  had  saved  him  from  assault.  He  turned  towards 
the  bed  where  Linda  reposed  in  healthful  sleep. 

An  idea  struck  him. 

"Why  not  chloroform  her?" 

A  sinister  expression  possessed  his  face  for  a  moment.  He  dre 
the  phial]  from  his  pocket  and  held  it  to  the  light.  He  tried  the 
door  leading  to  the  hall.  It  was  fastened  securely.  He  took  the  phial 
again  from  the  little  stand  where  he  had  placed  it,  and  as  he  did  so, 
he  glanced  in  the  mirror.  He  could  not  help  noting  his  own  hard 
look  that  answered  back  "You  are  a  demon."  He  was  about  to  look 
away  when  an  exclamation  partly  escaped  him.  A  strangely  familiar 
face  was  stamped  upon  the  mirror  and  seemed  to  glare  at  him  from 
fiery  eyes.  Tt  was  a  face  which  had  haunted  his  mental  vision  for  the 
last  few  days,  and  the  sight  transfixed  him  for  an  instant.  Tt  ap- 
peared to  be  framed  in  the  opening  of  the  garden  door,  and  he  turned 
nervously  to  confront  it.  But  there  was  nothing  at  the  door  to  con- 
firm the  reality  of  the  apparition.  Consulting  the  mirror  again,  the 
face  was  gone.  "It  had  Josefa's  eyes  and  expression,"  h.e  thought. 
He  went  to  the  door  and  closed  it  tighter. 

Linda  turned  in  her  bed  and  uttered  a  sigh,  followed  by  a  few 
words  that  were  not  intelligible.  The  villain  crouched.  But  it  wa,= 
evident  that  Linda  slept  a  deep,  dreamy  sleep,  all  unconscious  of  .the 
polluting  presence.  The  phial  was  again  produced  and  a,  quantity 
was  dropped  upon  a  hand  kerchief  taken  from  the  dressing  table 
With  a  catlike  movement  the  fiend  approached  the  couch  and  hel 
the  saturated  cloth  forward  preparatory  to  its  application.  T 
sleeper  moved  slightly  and  talked  again: 

"Oh  !  Manuel,  save  him— 

The  drug  was  applied,  the  nostrils  inhaled  the  subtle  narcotic  nn< 
the  girl   was  soon  past  the  power  of  rousing  to  her  defense.     The 
Creole  sat  upon  the  side  of  the  bed.  and.  taking  a  hand,  drew  the 
poised  arm  from  above  her  head.     Tn  her  dreams  she  pressed  tho.  vil 
Iain's  palm  and  said  in  quite  intolligiblo  words: 

"Beatrice  loves  him." 

Ducio  leaned  forward  and  pressed  a  passionate  kiss  upon  the  ui 
conscious  brow,  unconscious  himself  of  Hie  presence  of  a  third  parly 
to  the  scene.     When  he  grasped  Linda's  band  Iho  door  leading  to  the 


le. 

: 

ml 
he 
the 

: 


GUY  RAYMOND.  .  355 

garden  had  moved  noiselessly  upon  its  hinges  and  first  the  head  of  the 
listener,  whose  face  had  been  reflected  from  the  mirror,  made  its  ap- 
pearance, then  followed  the  form  of  the  youth.  With  easy  tread  he 
slowly  approached  the  unsuspecting  Ducio,  and,  seizing  him  by  the 
collar  before  he  had  half  raised  from  the  unholy  kiss,  he  hissed  be- 
tween his  compressed  teeth : 

"What  does  this  mean,  Mr.  Ducio  Halfen?" 

If  a  thunder  bolt  had  struck  him,  Ducio  could  not  have  been  more 
amazed  than  he  was  at  the  voice  which  uttered  the  words,  and  he 
was  puzzled  on  turning  to  find  they  had  come  from  a  youth  of  slender 
build,  who  would  be  but  a  pigmy  in  his  grasp. 

"Unhand  me,  simpleton !"  cried  Ducio,  drawing  the  dagger  he  had 
taken  from  beneath  the  jailer's  pillow.  "What  do  you  mean  by  your 
interference  here?" 

"Use  your  weapon,  coward,  if  you  dare!"  cried  the  intruder,  draw- 
ing a  glittering  blade.  "An  explanation  you  shall  make." 

"I  would  prefer  to  know  your  authority  to  ask  an  explanation," 
he  replied. 

"This  dress  is  to  conceal  me  from  the  recognition  of  the  street, 
not  from  your's,  Mr.  Halfen.  If  Josefa  de  la  Torre  has  no  right  to 
ask,  then  you  are  indeed  a  perjurer." 

"Josefa!  In  this  dress?  I  might  ask  how  came  you  here?  It  is 
not  a  seemly  hour  for  ladies  to  be  out,  even  if  disguised  as  men." 

"Nevertheless,  sir,  I  am  here  and  will  have  an  explanation." 

"Josefa,  put  away  the  knife.  An  explanation  will  take  too  long. 
Lei:  us  defer  it.  You  have  spoiled  all  by  this  intrusion.  A  success- 
ful ending  of  this  venture  would  have  transferred  a  fortune  from 
miserly  hands  to  yours  and  mine,  who  know  how  to  use  it — but  now— 

"From  your  actions,  when.  I  chanced  to  come  upon  you,  I  in- 
terrupted a  villainous  plot  against  this  girl  in  place  of  a  plan  to  secure 
a  fortune.  What,  sir,  have  you  done  here?  What  ails  this  woman?" 

"A  little  chloroform — a  matter  of  a  few  moments  unconscious- 
ness." 

"During  which  you  would  have  perpetrated  a  crime." 

"The  crime  of  appropriating  Bonito's  doubloons." 

"If  not  a  worse.  The  winning  of  a  mine  of  gold  would  not  excuse 
the  deviltry  which  I  believe  you  would  have  perpetrated  but  for  my 
interference,  as  you  call  it." 

During  this  passage  at  arms  between  the  strange  pair,  their  voices 
had  reached  a  key  in  sympathy  with  the  excitement  of  the  rencounter. 
Ducio  was  about  to  reply  to  Josefa's  last  insinuating  charge  when 
an  evident  attempt  to  force  the  door  from  the  hall  changed  the  coin- 


356  Guv  RAYMOND. 


loment, 


plexion  of  the  dramatic  scene.     Pucio  was  electrified  for  the  momei 
but  with  a  characteristically  quick  decision,  he  seized  Josefa  by  the 
arm  and,  pushing  her  towards  the  garden  entrance,  he  said  in  stroi 
undertones : 

"We  must  never  be  caught  here.  Fly,  Josefa!  I  will  keep  u[ 
with  you  until  you  get  safely  home.  I  did  not  count  on  this  inter- 
ruption/' 

"It  is  Bonito  who  overheard  our  voices,"  suggested  Josefa,  as  she 
hastened  out. 

"Not  alone,  however,  for  I  heard  voices  sometime  before  I  ad- 
ministered the  chloroform." 

The  two  were  soon  far  on  their  way  across  the  plaza,  going  in  the 
direction  of  Josefa's  home. 

The  first  intimation  that  Guy  had  that  someone  was  astir  in 
Linda's  apartment  was  a  noise  so  slight  that  he  was  much  in  doubt 
of  the  correctness  of  his  hearing.  A  moment  later  he  noted  the  move- 
ment of  the  faint  line  of  light  that  struggled  out  from  under  the  door. 
He  continued  on  the  alert  for  further  evidences  of  the  correctness 
of  his  first  suspicion.  The  high  words  which  followed  Josefa's  en- 
trance, being  confirmatory  in  the  last  degree,  he  tried  the  door,  but 
finding  it  fastened,  looked  around  for  something  wherewith  to  force 
it.  Jose's  bar,  which  had  been  loft  behind  bv  that  worthy,  was  the 
first  thing  he  noticed.  With  this  Guy  hoped  to  force  the  lock.  His 
vigorous  strokes  finally  caused  the  fastenings  to  yield,  but  not  until 
the  game  had  fled.  With  one  glance  about  him  as  he  entered,  IIP 
passed  quickly  into  the  garden  through  the  already  open  door  and 
found  the  way  into  the  plaza  unguarded  by  any  fastening.  Without, 
the  darkness  was  made  blacker  by  his  sudden  transition  from  the 
lighted  room.  No  sounds  could  be  heard.  Returning1  to  the  apart- 
ment he  had  just  quitted,  he  diffidently  approached  the  bed  where 
Linda  lay,  to  discover  if  anything  had  befallen  her.  She  was  breathing 
heavily.  No  reply  came  to  his  repented  calls.  He  finally  became 
sensible  of  the  presence  of  the  narcotic,  whose  fumes  pervaded  the 
air  of  the  apartment.  -  This  satisfied  him  of  Linda's  condition. 
Taking  the  light  from  the  dresser  he  held  it  closely  to  the  face  of  the 
sleeper.  She  moved  slightly  and  be  called  her  name.  He  took  her 
hand,  which  was  resting  limp  beside  her.  The  contact  seemed  to  in 
fluence  the  recognition  of  a  presence,  for  she  murmured: 

"Manuel,  save  him;  save  Senor  Raymond." 

Guy,  fully  comprehending  her  words,   was   afTected.        Satisfl 
after  witnessing  the  change  in  her  respiral  inn  and  an  increasing  rev 
lessness   fhat  no  seriniK  ennsequence.s  would    follow  the  inhalation 


GUY  RAYMOND.  351 

the  drug,  he  resolved  to  close  the  room  securely  and  to  stand  natch 
until  the  return  of  day.  The  superstitious  jailer  kept  his  bed  in  obe- 
dience to  the  injunction  of  his  spiritual  visitor,  and  the  'noniing 
was  well  broken  before  he  rose  from  his  slumbers  with  a  (-.'mi'iK-ed 
recollection  of  the  night's  experience.  Indeed,  he  lay  awake  fo**  manv 
minutes  in  the  endeavor  to  disengage  the  tangled  threads  of  memory ; 
to  distinguish  between  fact  and  fancy;  to  separate  what  he  conceived 
had  actually  transpired  from  the  mass  of  incoherence  that  could  ciily 
have  been  compiled  in  the  realms  of  dreamland. 

So  Guy  was  not  troubled  by  any  vigilance  of  his  jailer,  and 
when  the  first  gray  of  morning  showed  itself  he  descended  to  the 
vault,  carefully  closing  the  trap  behind  him,  and  made  his  way 
back  to  his  cell  and  to  Jose.  The  latter  was  asleep.  He  threw 
himself  upon  his  pallet  and  sought  rest  in  the  repose  which  an 
all  night  watching  rendered  necessary.  When  1m  again  awoke  it  was 
to  find  Jose  shaking  him. 

"Senor,  it  in  time  to  get  up;  and  here  you  are  slopping  like  a 
log.  Besides,  it  is  time  for  breakfast,  and  that  lazy  jailor  should  havo 
come,  before  this,  to  bring  it." 

"He  has  probably  not  recovered  from  his  last  night's  scare,"  said 
Guy,  more  to  himself  than  to  the  other. 

"Do  you  know,  scnor,  that  I  am  getting  tired  of  this  staying  in 
jail  for  another." 

"Well,  Jose,  a  little  more  patience';  and  I  think,  after  we  get 
the  contents  of  Candelario's  basket  stowed  away,  you  may  go  out 
and  return  to  your  duties  with  Father  Ignacio." 

"And  who  will  play  Ruiz?" 

"I  will  attend  to  that." 

"There  is  ihe  shuffling  old  fellow  now."  said  Jose,  as  he  heard 
the  jailer's  voice  and  stop. 

The  holt,  shot  back  in  the  lock  and  Bonito,  looking  rather  the 
worse  for  his  night's  work,  handed  in  the  morning  meal.  Jose  of 
course,  had  promptly  retired  to  the  far  corner. 

"Is  ho  asleep  .yet?"  asked  Bonito,  nodding  over  to  where  Jose  had 
retreated. 

Guy  simply  shrugged  his  shoulder  in  reply. 

"How  T  envy  his  long  naps!"  continued  the  jailer,  with  a  yawn. 

"Ami go,  YOU  look  terribly.  One  would  judge  from  appearances 
that  you  had  not  slept  for  a  week." 

"Senor,  T  had  frightful  dreams  in  the  night,  I  had  a  dream 
about  you — Id-  mo  soo — was  it  a  droam  or  a  vision — or — it  was  a 
about  you,  senor." 


358  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"A  dream,  Bonito?" 

"A — something,,  senor." 

"A  waking  dream,  perhaps." 

"Senor,  did  you  ever  see  a  ghost — a  spirit?"  ||J 

"They  confine  their  visits  to  Christians,  Bonito,  and  to  the  supc 
stitious  who  believe  in  them." 

"I  see;  I  see — only  Christians — good  or  bad  Christians.  Ghosts 
are  not  particular — so  they  be  Christians." 

"They  are  myths,  Bonito.  Ghosts  have  no  existence,  having  no 
substance  they  cannot  be  seen." 

"Oh,  senor!  You  are  ignorant  to  say  so.  Bonito  has  eyes — and 
if  eyes  can  see — Bonito's  eyes  have  seen  a  ghost,  and  heard  a  ghost." 

"An  illusion.     You  dreamed." 

"Dreamed  !  It  told  me  my  thoughts — my  secrets — my — my — it 
knew  what  no  mortal  but  Bonito  could  know." 

"You  but  dreamed,  amigo.  If  you  were  awake,  some  one  pos- 
sessed of  your  secrets  played  the  ghost." 

"The  ghost  was  a  friend  to  you,"  said  Bonito,  under  his  breath, 
remembering  his  promise  to  his  supernatural  visitor.  "Never  tell  it, 
senor,"  he  continued  in  a  low  tone,  "but  I  am  sure  your  friend,  the 
ghost,  would  not  mind  my  telling  you  that  much.  It  charged  me 
to  silence;  but,  senor,  you  must  know  that  you  are  not  to  be  shot, 
that  Bonito  must  be  out  of  the  way  this  night  that  you  may  escape 
by  no  fault  of  his.  It  must  be  the  will  of  heaven,  senor,  if  escape 
you  do,  for  how  you  will  get  out  of  this  cell  with  or  without  force, 
and  a  double  guard  in  the  court,  is  a  puzzle  Bonito  can't  make  out. 
You  are  lucky  to  have  a  ghost  doing  so  much  for  you,  seeing  you 
are  not  a  Christian,  with  no  faith  in  its  sort,  and  no  claims  on  its 
assistance.  Here  is  Ruiz,  the  sleeper,  whose  fate  is  sealed,  was 
never  mentioned  and  is  left  to  his  doom,  although  he  is  a  good 
Christian.  Lucky  pajarro !  But  it  puzzles  me  to  know  how  you  are 
to  escape  through  no  assistance  of  mine,  except  by  my  absence.  If 
my  absence  will  do  it,  senor,  even  that  is  worth  much  to  one  whose 
life  will  be  saved  by  it.  Yet  I  ask  not  for  pay — such  a  thing  as  pay 
should  be  left  to  the  one  who  knows  the  value  of  his  life.  You  have 
a  sister,  senor — a  young  thing  who  needs  you.  She  has  no  father, 
no  mother,  none  save  you  to  care  for  her.  If  she  had  a  fortune 
she  would  lay  it  down  at  the  feet  of  one  who  would  save  your  life. 
You  would  do  nearly  so  much  to  keep  alive  her  protector.  But 
Bonito  asks  nothing,  although  he  has  been  robbed.  You,  senor,  al- 
though you  believe  not  in  ghosts,  and  have  no  faith  in  the  religion 
of  the  saints,  have  a  well-balanced  head  and  know  your  duty.  The 


GUY  RAYMOND. 

uty  which  you  have  said  was  your  religion  will  decide  your  action — 
it  will  decide  your  action,  senor." 

Bonito  said  this  in  the  low  tone  of  confidence;  and  as  he  con- 
cluded, a  deep  sigh  escaped  him  and  his  flabby  cheek  fell  upon  his 
left  palm,,  as  he  assumed  a  disconsolate  pose  for  his  auditor's  edifi- 
cation. 

"Bonito,,  you  combine  the  arts  of  special  pleading  and  acting/' 
said  Guy,  amused. 

"I  would  not  take  a  real,  senor,  unless  you  give  it  with  a  good 
will/'  replied  the  other,  not  comprehending  Guy's  remark. 

"Nor  a  peso  ?" 

"No;  nor  a  doubloon." 

"Virtuous  Bonito!  Have  no  further  care,  for  I  shall  see  that 
you  are  well  rewarded  for  carrying  out  the  commands  of  my  friend, 
the  ghost." 

"Que  buen  pajarro!" 

"Say,  Bonito,  how  fares  Linda  this  morning?" 

"The  child  looks  bad,  senor.  She  passed  a  miserable  night,  and 
shows  it  by  her  drawn  face  and  red  eyes." 

"Did  she,  also,  see  the  ghost?" 

"Not  she;  it  would  have  frightened  her  out  of  her  wits;  but  her 
bad  feeling  comes  of  the  ghost  being  in  the  house.  There — she  is 
calling  me.  I  promised  to  go  back  in  a  minute,  and  here  T  have 
Ix'on  babbling  and  keeping  you  from  your  breakfast." 

When  Bonito  had  retired,  Guy  opened  his  basket  and  called  Jose 
to  join  him.  In  the  usual  place  he  found  a  note  from  Euiz.  This, 
after  reading  carefully,  he  destroyed,  and  turned  to  Jose,  with  the 
remark: 

"Well,  Jose,  you  are  to  go  to  Father  Ignacio  this  morning." 

"And  you?" 

"I  will  remain  here  a  few  hours  longer." 

"T  hate  to  leave  you  alone,  senor." 

"You  can  better  serve  me  outside." 

"Then  I  will  go.     Does  Bonito  know?" 

"Bonito  is  in  the  dark,  but  he  will  be  managed.  Brush  up  a 
little  and  be  ready  to  leave  here  in  thirty  minutes." 

Jose  was  ready  to  depart  when  the  appointed  time  had  arrived, 
and  escorted  by  Guy  ho  made  his  exit  through  the  vault.  The  hall 
was  clear,  and  a  rap  at  Linda's  door  caused  her  to  open  it  and 
admit  him.  Greeting  him  with  a  smile,  half  sad,  and  as  if  in 
( x[M Nation  of  his  coming  and  destination,  she  indicated  the  way 
oui  through  thn  garden  into  the  plaza. 


360  GUY  RAYMOND. 


CHAPTER  L. 

Vespers  were  over  at  San  Fernando.  A  slim  congregation  had 
dispersed,  leaving  a  few  straggling  worshippers,  who  quitted  at  inter- 
vals the  grand  front  portal,  singly  or  by  twos  and  threes.  The 
popular  priest  was  with  the  last  to  leave.  At  the  door  he  joined 
two  female  figures,  from  under  whose  rebosas  peered  two  well-known 
faces.  In  company  they  turned  towards  the  priestly  residence. 

"How  fares  the  young  prisoner,  Linda  ?•'•   asked  Father  Ignacio. 

"My  father  says  he  is  in  good  spirits,"  she  replied. 

"In  spite  of  the  fact  that  his  execution  is  tho  day  after  tomorrow?" 

"That  is,  if  the  day  aftor  tomorrow  will  find  him  a  prisoner/' 
said  Beatrice,  who  was  the  third  party  of  the  group. 

"Ah!     Then  he  has  hopes  of  a  pardon." 

"Perhaps — or  something  that  will   equally  prove  a  preventive." 

"Guard  your  secret,  my  child,  if  one  you  have." 

"My  secret?" 

"I've  seen  Miguel." 

"The  simpleton!     What  could  he  have  told?" 

"Nothing.  Yes,  a  hint.  Miguel  is  conscientious,  and  if  I  know 
or  suspect  anything  from  what  ho  hinted,  it  has  my  blessing.7' 

"Thanks,  good   Father." 

"From  me — the  same,"  said  Linda.    "Did  Manuel  see  you  toda; 

"He  saw  me  just  before  I  said  mass  this  morning." 

"He  told  you?" 

"Yes ;  the  plan  is  bold.  It  may  succeed,  but  it  is  a  most  perilous 
undertaking.  T  will  have  to  do  penance  for  engaging,  even  by  con- 
sent, in  this  plot  against  the  authorities.  But,  my  dear  children.  T 
have  a  heart.  To  my  mind  it  would  be  murder  to  take  tho  lifo  of 
this  young  American  on  the  insufficient  evidence  against  him,  with- 
out a  shadow  of  opportunity  to  defend  himself.  To  me  he  hns 
proved  himself  to  bo  the  soul  of  honor,  and,  talented  beyond  his 
years,  it  would  be  a  wanton  crime  to  destroy  a  life  so  full  of  brilliant 
promise.  Besides,  ho  has  not  yet  experienced  tho  touch  of  faith. 
The  grand  truths  of  our  holy  religion  have  not  yet  dawned 
his  exquisite  intelligence.  T  have  prayed  for  it  with  all  tho  ai 
of  which  I  am  master,  for  T  believe  his  innate  purity,  allied  t< 
failh  in  revealed  religion,  would  make  him  a  wearer  of  HIP  cass 

"He  would   make   a   noble  priest,"   thought   Linda,   with    a   In 
suppressed  sigh. 


Guy  RAYMOND.  361 

"As  if  a  man  of  honor  and  intellect  could  not  believe  in  religious 
dogma  without  taking  order*/'  thought  Beatrice,  with  a  slight  flush. 
that  might  have  meant  indignation. 

"But  the  world  is  full  of  scholars  who  accept  the  religions  of 
our  civilization,  yet  they  have  no  inclination  to  take  orders.  Many 
cf  these  are  doubtless  pure  men  and  honorable,"  said  Beatrice,  in 
unconscious  deprecation  of  Father  Ignacio's  idea  as  applied  to  the 
subject  of  her  thoughts. 

"Pardon"  me,  Beatrice.  Child,  let  us  free  him  first  from  the 
impending 'danger,  before  \ve  differ  as  to  his  career.  Whatever  his 
calling  may  be,  Guy  Raymond  will  fill  it  honorably  and  well.  What 
says  Linda?  Shall  wo  make  a  padre  out  of  Senor  Raymond ?" 

"As  God  wills  it.  Father.  He  would  make  a  good  priest,  but  he 
i?  too — just  a  little  too  handsome." 

"You  are  very  well  content  with  my  sacred  calling  which,  in 
view  of  your  opinion,  is  a  thrust  at  my  personal  appearance,"  said 
the  priest  'good  humoredly. 

"But  you  wore  a  priest  before  we  saw  you,  and  of  course  Linda 
and  myself  have  to  yield  to  what  we  had  no  opportunity  to  protest 
against." 

"Well,  God  bless  you,  my  children;  I  must  leave  you  here.  May 
r.ll  our  hopes  be  realized." 

So  saying  the  good  father  left  them,  to  enter  his  house,  while 
the  girls  soon  after  separated  to  go  to  their  respective  homes. 

The  parting  between  the  two  girl  friends  was  to  be  of  short 
durition,  for  before  the  dew  had  dampened  the  plants  in  Linda's 
garden.  Bent-rice  had  raised  the  latch  of  its  gate  and  passed  over 
the  neat  walk  to  the  former's  door,  which  was  open  in  expectancy 
of  her  coming".  Bonito,  who  had  fussed  around  the  whole  afternoon 
in  a  state  of  perturbation  which  precluded  the  indulgence  of  his 
customary  siesta,  hailed  the  approach  of  evening  with  satisfaction; 
not  that  it  would  end  the  nervousness  entailed  by  a  combination  of 
matters  which  pressed  upon  his  susceptibility,  but  that  it  hastened 
the  climax  of  a  portion  of  the  events  whose  consummation  preyed 
upon  his  mind.  He  dreaded  the  responsibility  for  an  escape  made 
by  one  of  his  prisoners.  His  grasping  nature  had  weighed,  since 
early  morning,  the  size  of  the  remuneration  to  be  expected  from 
Guy,  who  had  hinted  at  a  reward  for  the  bare  absence  of  four  hours 
from  his  post  of  duty.  He  had  not  removed  the  remaining  traces 
of  the  debris  in  the  vault,  as  Sunday  had  succeeded  his  night  work. 
His  superstition  came  to  his  relief  in  the  remembrance  that  the 

i  had  directed  his  passive  connivance  in  the  escape  of  the  Amer- 


362  GUY  RAYMOND. 


lean.  It  was  none  of  his  affair  if  the  wall  should  prove  too  thick 
or  the  bolts  too  strong  and  the  doubled  guard  too  wary  to  permit 
the  ghostly  programme  to  succeed.  True,  he  thought,  ghosts  cared 
little  for  fastenings,  but  how  could  his  mere  absence  so  facilitate 
matters?  If  el  pajarro  should  fail  and  be  executed,  the  secret  of 
the  chest  would  again  be  only  his — if  he  should  escape — well — que 
importa,  the  doubloons  were  gone — no  one  knew  where — -except  the 
ghost — and  then  he  would  get  some  reward  for  which  he  had  not 
asked,  however,  as  his  supernatural  visitor  had  forbidden  him.  He 
would  clean  up  the  vault  on  the  morrow  and  the  most  prying  could 
pass  through  it  without  a  suspicion  of  a  secret  treasure,  and  then, 
the  ghost  had  guaranteed  its  safety. 

Bonito  had  early  notified  the  proper  authority  that  he  would  be 
temporarily  absent  in  the  night,  and  was  promised  the  double  guard, 
with  a  special  commendation  for  his  vigilance.  He  had  some  business 
with  the  notary  and  concluded  that  he  would  make  that  a  pretext 
for  a  visit  to  that  functionary,  at  or  a  little  before  he  hour  he  had 
promised  to  be  absent.  He  accordingly  notified  Linda,  at  the  time 
decided  upon,  and  took  his  way  northwards  along  the  east  side  of 
the  plaza.  When  the  jailer  had  been  fairly  gone,  the  outer  gate 
was  fastened  with  its  inside  latch  by  his  daughter,  who  then  attached 
to  it  a  cord  with  a  small  stone  tied  on  the  other  end.  The  latter 
she  threw  over  the  wall,  just  above,  so  that  it  depended  from  the 
outer  edge.  This  done,  she,  with  Beatrice,  who  was  an  anxious 
witness  to  her  act,  entered  her  room  and  closed  the  door. 

"Miguel !     Come  forth/'  said  Beatrice. 

In  response,  the  giant  mozo  of  the  Navarro's  issued  from  the 
identical  place  where  Ducio  had  concealed  himself  on  the  night 
before.  He  having  arrived  before  her  father's  departure,  Linda  had 
placed  him  in  concealment.  The  huge  frame  seemed  to  expand  more 
and  more  as  he  rose  from  his  constrained  position,  and  finally  took 
a  respectful  stand  near  his  mistress. 

"Linda,  shall  we  go  now  or  wait?" 

"There  is  little  use  of  waiting.  No  one  is  here  to  interrupt  us, 
and  the  time  will  seem  too  short  to  you,  who  must  have  much  to 
say  to  him." 

Beatrice  blushed. 

"I — I — will  not  know  what  to  say.  His  deliverance  here  is  easy—- 
but the  peril  of  the  passage  without  the  lines?  This  troubles  me. 
Eecapture  means  death — instant  death,  and  then  the  chances  of  an 
armed  encounter.  Have  you  his  rifle?" 

"Here,"  said  the  other,  producing  the  trusty  weapon  of  Guy's 


GUY  RAYMOND.  363 

Indian  experience,  "and  lien?  his  pistols,  all  dean  and  in  good  order. 
The  monte  pio  had  it  done  for  me." 

"The  monte  pio  I"  said  Beatrice  meaningly. 

But  Linda  shook  her  head. 

"Come  then,  Linda,  lead  the  \vay.     Come,  Miguel!7' 

They  gained  the  hall. 

The  giant  was  looked  to  with  appealing  eyes.  He  regarded  the 
lounge  for  a  moment,  then  pointed  to  it. 

"The  opening  must  be  under  that,"  he  said. 

"Do  your  duty,"  commanded  Beatrice.  "Miguel,  it  is  all  with 
you  now." 

The  mozo  examined  the  lounge  curiously.  He  pulled  away  at  ii, 
but  the  resistance  proved  it  to  be  stationary.  His  whole  strength 
was  put  in  requisition.  The  effect  was  a  cracking  noise,  then  a 
giving  away  of  the  end  containing  the  trapdoor,  disclosing  the  first 
step,  without  affording  space  for  the  passage  of  a  body.  Another 
effort  of  the  muscular  arms  and  Bonito's  contrivance  was  a  wreck. 
The  huge  frame  of  the  mozo  nearly  filled  the  space  as  he  began  to 
descend  to  the  vault. 

"Are  you  going,  Linda?"  asked  Beatrice. 

"No.  I  will  wait  here.  You  go,  Beatrice;  go  with  Miguel.  To 
you  belongs  the  credit  of  this  deliverance." 

"Now  that  the  moment  has  come,  I  am  losing  the  nerve  which 
has  sustained  me.  If  there  was  not  still  a  doubt,  still  a  fear  that 
this  effort  may  miscarry  I  should  stop  here  from  the  very  lack  of 
force  to  proceed.  This  doubt — this  fear  will  sustain  me  until — 
until " 

Linda  kissed  her. 

Miguel  reminded  them  that  a  candle  was  needed.  This  Linda 
sup filied,  and  again  embracing  her  friend,  she  saw  them  disappear 
into  the  vault. 

A  shudder  crept  over  Beatrice  as  she  viewed  the  rough  interior 
of  the  subterranean  chamber,  but  conscious  of  the  presence  of  her 
powerful  servant  and  the  sacredness  of  her  mission,  she  crowded 
down  the  emotions  natural  to  delicate  and  refined  womanhood. 

Miguel  was  not  long  in  reaching  the  ascent  to  the  cell.  This  he 
pointed  out  to  Beatrice  and  told  her  that  the  stone  covering  to  the 
trap  must  be  lifted,  and  inquired  her  pleasure.  She  waved  him  to 
proceed. 

He  drew-forth  from  his  side  a  heavy  blade,  and  going  within  reach 
of  the  stone  to  be  removed,  he  held  up  the  light  and  introduced  the 


364  GUY  EAYMOND. 

point  of  the  knife  around  its  edges.     The  experiment  ove'r  he  coolly 
looked  down  and  remarked: 

."The  stone  is  loose.     Shall  I  lift  it?" 

"Lift  it,"  was  the  reply. 

The  sinewy  frame  of  the  giant  was  hent  double,  and  with  back 
placed  against  the  ponderous  flag,  he  made  one  effort  and  the  impedi- 
ment was  shoved  to  one  side.  He  turned  quickly  to  grasp  its  edge 
and  the  next  moment  the  hole  was  clear. 

"Amigos!  Senor — Amigos!"  said  Miguel,  as  his  big  body  rose 
through  the  opening  into  the  cell. 

"Stand  back,  amigos — I'll  test  your  friendship.  Who  are  you, 
and  what  do  you  want  ?"  said  Guy,  who  had  been  lying  down  reading, 
and  viewed  with  no  little  surprise  the  lifting  of  the  stone  and  the 
intrusion  of  the  strange  head.  His  first  act  was  to  seize  the  stool 
and  hold  it  menacingly  aloft,  while  he  felt  for  his  dagger.  These 
demonstrations  called  forth  the  protestations  of  friendly  intent  from 
the  lips  of  Miguel. 

To  Guy's  inquiry  the  mozo  demonstrated  considerable  tact  by 
replying : 

"The*  Senorita  Beatrice  Navarro  is  here  and  will  answer  your 
worship,  if  you  will  let  me  get  off  the  steps." 

"The  Senorita  Navarro  I"  exclaimed  Guy,  moving  forward  and 
peering  down  the  steps.  He  could  not  be  deceived;  there,  with 
candle  held  aloft,  anxiety  depicted  in  her  face,  was  the  veritable, 
form  and  features  of  her  whose  influence  had  swayed  him  like  a 
second  nature.  As  he  looked  the  picture  became  graven  upon  his 
heart.  The  light  and  shadow  playing  upon  her  features,  expressive 
of  changeful  emotions  lent  a  singular  charm  to  her  beaut}7.  The 
upturned  look,  the  pallid  color  induced  by  the  venture  and  enhanced 
by  the  damp  and  chill  of  the  vault,  the  contour  of  the  face  framed 
by  the  dark  rebosa,  suggested  a  Madonna. 

With  a  bound  he  was  in  the  vault. 

"Senorita !    This  is  no  place  for  you.    Even  now  you  look  unwell/' 

"Senor,  I  came  for  a  purpose  which  must  be  accomplished.  Tues- 
day you  are  condemned  to — to — die.  Tonight  you  must  escape.  I 
knew  of  this  secret  passage — my  mozo  knew  how  to  reach  your  cell 
I  claimed  his  services — and  we  are  here." 

"This  for  me !     Oh  !     Beatrice !" 

"For  you — you  who  rescued  me  from  a  terrible  death.     To  can 
that  debt  I  am  here.     You  must  hasten  from  this   foul  place, 
first  step.     Tt  will  take  some  hours  to  decide,  if  the  plan  made 
your  friends  will  end  in  failure  or  success." 


GUY  RAYMOND.  :;»;:. 

"I  knew  of  a  plan  to  be  carried  out  tonight,  but  there  was  no 
hint  of  your  connection  with  it." 

"That  was  my  secret;  shared  alone  by  my  faithful  Miguel." 

"Senorita !     I— 

"You  called  me  Beatrice.  Oh!  Guy,  what  is  the  cloud  between 
us  ?" 

"Have  I  raised  it— Beatrice?" 

"You  did  not  answer  my  letter." 

"I  never  received  one." 

"Then  have  I  misjudged  you — but  this  is  no  fit  place  for  explana- 
tions. Let  us  go  to  Linda's  room.  Her  father  is  out  of  the  way 
and  time  is  flying.  There  remains-  much  to  be  done  in  a  plan  of 
which  I  must  confess  my  ignorance." 

Guy  took  a  farewell  look  at  his  surroundings  and  mentally  won- 
dered what  would  finally  become  of  the  miser's  wealth. 

Linda  was  waiting  jn  the  hall  for  the  liberating  party  with  their 
charge.  She  embraced  and  congratulated  Beatrice  on  her  success, 
and  turning  to  greet  Guy,  the  latter  imprinted  a  brotherly  kiss  upon 
her  forehead.  He  caught  Beatrice's  look  as  he  raised  from  its  be- 
stowal, and  before  she  was  well  aware  of  his  intention  he  stooped 
and  kissed  her  lips. 

"That  was  right-,"  said  Linda,  "but  it  should  have  been  given 
in  the  vault." 

"I  wished  to  acknowledge  my  gratitude  to  both  at  the  same  time/' 
said  Guy. 

"Now,"  he  continued,  "if  you  will  allow  me,  I  wish  to  rearrange 
the  stone  in  the  cell  so  that  no  blame  may  attach  to  my  good  jailer." 

"Let  Miguel  do  that.  Miguel,  go  replace  the  stone,  and,  as  far 
as  you  can,  repair  the  damage  to  the  lounge." 

Miguel  at  once  hastened  to  obey  the  orders  of  his  mistress. 

In  Linda's  room  a  council  was  held.  The  hour  was  found  to  be 
near  ten  o'clock  when  the  relief  would  be  around  and  supply  a  double 
guard  in  the  court  of  the  carrel. 

"Do  you  know  anything  of  Manuel  Eui//s  mo\ements  tonight?" 
asked  Beatrice. 

"He  was  to  be  here  at  ten,  or  thereabouts,  to  see  if  I  would  be 
in  readiness  to  join  him  then,  or  at  some  hour,  which  he  was  to 
name,"  said  Guy. 

"I  am  expecting  him  every  minute,"  said  Linda. 

"How  would  you  have  contrived  to  meel  him  if  we  had  not 
found  you  a  way  out  of  the  cell?" 

Beatrice.'-    (jin-slimi    was    one    \\hirh    Guy    feared    she    would    ask. 

"24 


366  GUY  KAYMOND. 

Since  she  had  asked  it,  he  answered  evasively,  for  he  did  not  wish 
her  to  become  aware  of  his  previous  knowledge  of  the  secret  passage, 
especially  of  his  purpose  to  use  it  that  night,  as  an  exit  through 
which  to  effect  a  meeting  with  Euiz.  To  so  inform  her  would  sweep 
away  the  credit  she  enjoyed  as  his  deliverer,  and  deprive  her  of  the 
sole  stimulant  of  the  adventure. 

So  he  replied : 

"But  for  the  vault  I  would  have  been  sorely  puzzled,  and  should 
have  been  compelled  to  rely  upon  the  ingenuity  of  Ruiz  to  accom- 
plish what  you  have  so  easily  done  through  the  knowledge  of  your 
faithful  mozo." 

If  Linda  had  a  thorn  in  her  heart,  she  concealed  it  under  a 
calm  exterior.  Her  devotion  to  Guy  was  the  outgrowth  of  her  con- 
tact with  a  personality  strange  to  her  experience  with  men  of  her 
race.  His  gentleness,  the  purity  which  every  act  reflected,  won  her 
simple  admiration,  and  if  she  loved  him  as  she  would  a  lover,  her 
peculiar  disposition  made  it  possible  for  her  to  love  him  as  a  friend. 
She  was  as  much  interested  in  Beatrice  as  a  woman,  as  she  was  in 
Guy  as  a  man.  As  a  child  of  nature  she  was  a  perfect  type;  as  the 
issue  of  Bonito,  a  wonderful  product.  Under  pretense  of  attention 
to  affairs  in  and  out  of  her  room,  she  left  Guy  and  Beatrice  to 
mutual  explanations  and  interchange  of  sentiment  on  the  eve  of  a 
probable  separation.  The  pair  were  engrossed  with  each  other,  when 
the  door  was  unceremoniously  opened  and  Ruiz  entered  in  his  dis- 
guise. 

"No  time  for  ceremony — so  I  came  right  in.  Ha!  Mr.  Guy 
Raymond,  happy  to  see  you — and  so  pleasantly  engaged." 

"Ruiz !     As  I  live.     Your  own  mother  would  foreswear  you." 

"Good  evening,  Linda!" 

"You  found  the  string  on  the  gat-e?" 

"Or  I  would  have  had  to  jump  the  wall.  You  are  out  of  the 
cell,  I  see,"  he  said  to  Guy.  "Bonito  came  to  terms?" 

Bonito?  No,  he  was  stubborn  to  the  last.  The  jailer  is  off  duty 
for  a  time.  The  Senorita  Navarro  pointed  out  an  exit  through  a 
secret  passage  from  the  cell." 

"A  secret  passage?  But  I  can't  stay  for  explanations,  as  time 
is  pressing.  Senor,  a  word  with  you  in  the  hall." 

Ruiz  drew  Guy  aside,  just  without  the  hall  door,  and  disclosed 
to  him  some  new  details  of  the  plan  to  deceive  the  authorities.  While 
so  engaged  a  rap  was  given  at  the  garden  door  and  Linda,  who 
answered  the  call,  was  surprised  to  admit  the  priest  of  San  Fernando. 

"You  are  surprised  to  see  me  here — but  where  is  your  liberated 


GUY  RAYMOND.  367 

prisoner?"  he  asked,  looking  towards  Beatrice. 

"Here  he  is,"  replied  Guy,  entering-  wjti,  Rujz.  "Father,  T  am 
proud  of  this  honor." 

"You  did  not  suppose  I  was  going  to  let  you  escape,  or  run  the 
risk  of  your  life  in  attempting  to  do  so,  without  an  adios." 

"Not  he,"  said  Ruiz.  "Remember,  if  we  are  all  caught  in  this 
affair,  that  Father  Ignacio  is  chief  conspirator." 

"You  would  be  thoughtless  to  criminate  me,  for  as  an  innocent 
I  would  have  influence  in  your  behalf." 

"No  mercy  can  be  expected  from  tyrants.  But  there  is  no  time 
for  debate.  I  must  be  off  to  meet — bold  men  and  true.  The  fnH  is, 
I  am  late  now,  and  will  have  to  hurry." 

As  he  said  this,  Ruiz  waved  an  adios  and  hastened  out  to  the 
plaza  and  darkness. 

"A  bold  fellow,  is  Ruiz,"  said  the  priest,  as  he  seated  himself 
near  Guy  for  a  chat. 

"Bold  and  true.  I  tried  to  induce  him  to  let  me  go  with  him, 
but  it  seems  that  I  am  not  to  be  an  actor  in  the  first  part  of  the 
programme." 


u 


CHAPTER  LI. 


Ruiz  gained  the  plaza  from  the  garden,  he  came  in  contact 
with  someone  moving  in  the  opposite  direction,  his  left  arm  striking 
the  other's  right.  With  an  apologetic  ejaculation,  he  moved  briskly 
on  to  meet  his  appointment  with  his  confederates. 

"That  fellow  has  been  there  again  tonight !  It  was  his  voice  cer- 
tainly. There  must  be  somthing — some  plot;  perhaps  the  release  of 
that  fellow  Raymond.  The  fellow's  actions  have  been  strange  and 
suspicious,  and  he  has  certainly  dogged  me.  The  gate  he  has  left 
ajar,  possibly  with  a  view  of  returning  at  once.  I  will  just  take 
a  peep  in  there  and  may  learn  something  that  will  confirm  my  already 
slrong  position  with  the  authorities.  The  dead  body  of  the  notary 
has  not  yet  been  discovered.  Why  not  lay  the  deed  on  this  fellmv 
with  the  long  beard.  I  can  swear  that  I  saw  him  prowling  near  the 
dciul  man's  house  last  night.  Well,  here  goes  to  see  what  I  can  see." 

With  these  last  words,  half  thought,  half  said,  Ducio  crept  into 
the  garden  and  close  to  the  window  nearest  his  former  place  of  con- 
cealment. Through  a  small  aperture  he  was  able  to  take  in  a  view 
of  a  large  portion  of  the  apartment.  The  sound  of  voices  were 
plainly  distinct,  enabling  him  to  catch  here  and  there  a  sentence. 
To  his  astonishment  he  saw  Guy,  the  condemned  prisoner,  sitting 


368  GUY  RAYMOND. 

quite  at  ease  by  the  side  of  the  beauty  of  Bexar,  by  Beatrice  Navarre. 
Linda,  apparently  no  worse  from  her  experience  of  the  night  before, 
was  talking  to  the  priest  of  San  Fernando.  Ducio  understood  at  once 
that  the  prisoner  was  under  no  surveillance;  that  no  restraint  was 
present  to  prevent  his  further  progress  from  the  vicinity  of  his  cell. 
Navarro  pere  was  marked  by  the  authorities  as  a  rebel,  and  here  was 
his  daughter  giving  aid  and  comfort  to  a  condemned  spy,  and  doubt- 
less intriguing  for  his  escape  from  the  city.  But  the  priest  was 
considered  loyal,  as  was  also  the  jailer.  Ducio  was  resolving  to  make 
a  report  of  this  scene  to  the  authorities,  when  his  attention  was 
riveted  by  the  plainly  heard  words  of  the  parties  whom  he  was 
watching. 

"There  is  a  double  guard  in  the  court.  My  father  had  business 
in  town  and  thought  it  best  to  double  the  sentinels  until  his  return." 

"It  seems  he  did  not  count  on  Senor  Raymond's  power  of  self 
transmutation,"  said  Father  Ignacio,  laughing. 

"You  have  not  heard  of  my  playing  ghost  ?" 

"No!  I  had  not  heard.  I  merely  conjectured  that  a  change  of 
substance  had  been  necessary  to  enable  you  to  pass  the  bolts  and  bars 
of  prison." 

"I  wondered  that  Manuel  was  not  more  inquisitive  about  the  man- 
ner of  your  getting  out  of  the  cell,"  said  Beatrice. 

"Ruiz  had  no  time  for  talking  or  for  explanations,  as  he  had  to 
meet  our  friends  from  the  outside." 

"The  one  thing  I  do  not  like  about  this  plan  of  Ruiz,"  said  Father 
Ignacio,  "is  the  introduction  of  a  rebel  force  to  take,  a  part.     Senor 
Raymond's  escape  could  have  been  insured  by  secretly  passing     the 
lines  under  escort  of  a  guide,  and  as  for  a  guide,  none  in  Bexar  co 
have  been  secured  more  expert  in  the  business  than  Ruiz  himself." 

The  words  of  the  priest  threw  new  light  on  the  affair,  and  Du 
determined  that  he  had  sufficient  clues  to  implicate  the  whole  party. 
The  individual  who  had  haunted  his  steps  was  undoubtedly  the  bogus 
toreador,  who,  apprehended  as  Ruiz,  was  presumably  in  prison. 
Prompt  action  on  the  part  of  the  authaorities  would  solve  the  mystery 
and  explode  any  alleged  powers  of  transmutation  in  possession  of  the 
prisoners.  Filled  with  this  intention,  Ducio  hastened  from  the  place. 

The  hour  was  eleven  when  Karnes  and  Ruiz  grasped  hands,  after 
the  bow  of  the  boat  had  grated  upon  the  pebbly  margin  of  the  rivSr. 
Nathan  sat  upon  her  bow  as  the  boat's  stern  swung  around  with  the 
stream,  and  with  his  feet  planted  upon  the  bank,  he  held  her  firmly 
in  position.  The  others  were  silent  in  their  places,  partly  from  the 
injunction  of  the  commander,  partly  from  a  desire  to  catch  some- 


the 

= 


GUY  RAYMOND.  369 

thing  that  would  pass  between  the  conferees,  whose  councils  were  to 
detain  the  expedition  for  a  time. 

"Well?"  was  Karnes  laconic  inquiry. 

"Everything  is  ready,  so  far  as  it  is  possible  to  regulate  the  position 
of  things.  A  thorough  acquaintance  with  the  place  and  what  we  are 
likely  to  encounter  has  been  looked  after.  There  are  risks  which  no 
one  can  anticipate,  and  whatever  obstacles  may  arise  must  be  met  by 
determination  and  dash." 

"What  about  the  prisoner  Raymond  ?" 

"He  awaits  us  free  of  his  cell.  I  refused  to  let  him  accompany 
us  to  headquarters,  as  he  will  be  of  more  service  with  our  reserve 
should  we  need  the  assistance.  Too  large  a  show  of  force  would  defeat 
our  aims." 

"In  your  hands,  then,  Senor  Ruiz,  must  remain  the  direction  of 
this  expedition.  We  will  furnish  the  pluck,  and  if  mortal  courage 
will  carry  us  through,  you  may  count  on  suce<>— ." 

"Then  we'll  to  business/'  said  Ruiz,  giving  a  low  whistle. . 

In  response  a  tall  form  came  out  of  the  darkness  and  placed  a 
bundle  which  lie  carried  on  the  ground  before  them. 

"How  many,  Jose?" 

"Seven,  senor." 

"Counting  the  sergeants?" 

"Si,  senor;  counting  the  sergeants." 

"But  yours?     You  should  have  one  also." 

"I  have  mine  on,  senor." 

"That  will  do ;  it  is  so  dark  I  could  not  see  the  change." 

"What  are  these — the  uniforms?"  inquired  K.-irnes. 

"Yes,"  replied  Ruiz,  "and  \ve  had  work  to  get  enough.  Have  tin- 
men put  them  on." 

"Come,  boys,  tumble  out,"  commanded  Karnes.  "size  up  this 
toggery  and  make  your  toilets  without  delay." 

The  men,  with  more  noise  than  was  agreeable  to  the  cautious 
Karnes,  jumped  speedily  out  of  the  boat  and  surrounded  the  pile  of 
Mexican  uniforms  which  Ruiz  had  procured  for  their  dis^ujpe.  The 
next  few  minutes  were  consumed  in  sizing  up  ihe  candidates  for 
investiture. 

'•What'll  we  do  with  our  duds?"  asked  Hamilton. 

"There's  only  blouses  and  caps,"  said  Karnes.  "You  can  put  them 
on  over  your  eoats." 

"Which     ihe  blouses  or  the  caps?" 

"The  blouses,  you  fool." 
id  our  hats  ?" 


370  GUY  KAYMOND. 

"Leave  'em  in  the  boat." 

"This  blouse  will  never  hide  my  frock  tail,"  said  Hamilton. 

"Cut  off  the  tail,  then,"  said  Perry. 

"That's  what,"  said  Nathan,  "for  the  showin'  of  your  tail  mo 
cost  you  yer  head." 

"Bravo,  Nathan !     Your  coat  tail  will  never  give  you  away." 

"I  reckon  not,"  said  Karnes,  "for  it  is  a  question  if  Nathe  e 
owned  a  coat." 

"They're  useless  things,  Karnes.  The  old  man  once't  made  me 
wear  one  to  meetin',  but  it  cut  me  under  the  arms  and  I  gin  it  to  my 
little  brother.  They're  the  peskiest  things  to  cut  a  feller  under  the 
arms.  Now,  I  don't  rnind  one  of  these  blouses,  altho'  this  un  falls 
terrible  short." 

"Come,  men,  be  readv.  Ruiz,  who  is  this  man?  Does  he  go  with 
us?" 

"This  is  Jose,"  said  Ruiz,  in  an  undertone,  "the  major  domo  of  the 
priest.  He  will  be  with  us,  but  now  I  have  other  work  for  him.  He 
will  return  to  give  notice  to  others  interested  in  our  plot,  and  an- 
nounce your  coming  and  our  approach  down  the  river.  You  have 
the  muskets  with  bayonets?" 

"Yes;  we  supplied  ourselves  from  the  lot  captured  at  the  powder 
house." 

"All  right,  then,  we  had  better  be  off." 

By  direction  of  their  commander  the  men  resumed  their  posi- 
tions in  the  boat,  making  a  place  for  Ruiz  by  the  side  of  the  former. 
The  command  to  push  off  was  given.  The  little  vessel  floated  free; 
the  oars  dipped;  the  paddle  righted  its  course  and  it  shot  away  into 
the  darkness  ahead.  By  the  road  which  Jose  had  to  travel  to  return, 
the  town  was  but  a  few  hundred  yards  below,  but  the  torturous  course 
of  the  river  turned  here  and  there  until  it  nearly  boxed,  the  compass 
every  quarter  of  its  way.  While  the  craft  is  doubling  its  turns, 
plowing  the  glassy  surfaces  of  its  pools  or  just  grazing  the  rocky 
bottom  of  its  rapids,  bearing  its  adventurous  crew  to  the  dangers  of 
a  hostile  environment,  a  return  to  the  city,  now  quiet  in  the  embrace 
of  night,  will  disclose  in  some  degree  the  difficulties  which  new 
moves  of  counterplotters  were  erecting  in  their  path.  Few  lights  were 
to  be  seen  from  the  quiet  streets.  The  Cabeza  de  Toro  showed  its 
usual  activity  with  answering1  lights  from  the  Candelario's  and  the 
vinoteria,  while  from  the  entrance  of  tho  court  of  the  carcel  the  light 
from  the  lamp  over  Bonito's  door  struggled  faintly  lo  tho  sidewalk. 
Along  Main  street,  headquarters  alone  were  illmninaird.  More  the 
windows  of  the  guard  room  showed  the  lazy  sentinel  as  he  paced 


GUY  EAYMOND.  371 

before  them,  up  and  down  his  beat.  Linda's  light  was  concealed  by 
the  high  garden  wall,  but  the  plaza  escaped  total  darkness  through 
the  faint  rays  of  Father  Ignacio's  candle  which,  like  Beatrice's  taper, 
still  burned  for  the  return  of  the  absent. 

At  headquarters  a  convocation  of  deep  interest  to  this  narrative 
was  in  progress.  The  room  to  which  the  reader  has  already  paid 
one  or  more  visits,  was  the  scene.  The  little  lieutenant  of  the  staff 
was  apparently  the  controlling  spirit.  He  was  at  one  end  of  the 
green  table,  while  on  the  side  and  to  his  right,  his  friend  Sancho  was 
seated,  leaning  forward,  his  elbow  supporting  his  hand  upraised  to 
his  forehead.  Between  them  was  a  chess  board  with  a  few  standing 
pieces,  showing  an  unfinished  game.  The  lieutenant  and  his  companion 
were  both  regarding  a  third  party,  who  having  just  been  admitted 
to  the  apartment,  had  interrupted  a  closely  contested  game  of  chess 
by  the  communication  of  some  intelligence  possessing  more  than  or- 
dinary interest.  The  lieutenant  was  interrogating  him  on  the  sub- 
ject : 

"You  say,  Senor  Halfen,  that  this  prisoner,  Raymond,  was  out  of 
his  cell,  in  the  jailer's  apartments,  and  that  his  companions  were — 
were — I  would  like  to  hear  it  again  from  your  own  lips  without  put- 
ting a  leading  question." 

"The  Senorita  Navarre,  the  jailer's  daughter  and  the  priest  who 
has  charge  of  San  Fernando,"  repeated  Ducio,  emphatically. 

"Good  company!     And  the  jailer — was  he  about?" 

"I  overheard  that  the  jailer  was  out  in  town,  but  had  taken  the 
precaution  to  double  the  guard  during  his  absence." 

"True,  I  remember  now;  he  asked  and  received  permission  to  be 
absent  for  a  time  tonight." 

The  lieutenant  drummed  on  the  table  with  one  of  the  captured 
castles  of  his  adversary. 

"You  seem  to  take  the  news  coolly,"  suggested  Ducio. 

"It  is  best,  Senor  Halfen.  We  military  men  must  ever  be  cool. 
The  Father  Ignacio !" 

"The  Senorita  Beatrice !"  chimed  in  Sancho. 

"And  the  pretty  Linda!  She,  too,  in  a  plot  to  free  this  hand- 
some American  !"  said  the  lieutenant. 

"This  nearly  upsets  all  remembrance  I  had  of  our  game,  Sancho; 
whose  move  was  it  ?" 

"Your's,  lieutenant,  otherwise  it  would  be  a  checkmate." 

"Lieutenant,"  interrupted  Ducio,  chafed  at  the  indifference  paid 
to  the  news  he  had  imparted,  "you  appear  so  cool  over  the  matter  I 
had  better  speedily  inform  you  of  something  additional  that  will  con- 
vince you  of  the  necessity  for  immediate  action." 


372  GUT  RAYMOND. 

"The  report  you  make,  senor,  shall  have  due  consideration.  This 
man  may  be  out  of  his  cell,  but  as  for  escape,  the  admirable  dis- 
cipline and  the  perfection  of  every  arrangement  for  the  defense 
of  this  post  renders  it  impossible  for  him  to  pass  our  lines.  If  yc 
have  further  matter  to  communicate  we  will  listen." 

"Then,  senor,  I  have  to  inform  you  that  Manuel  Ruiz,  the  spy 
who  was  arrested  at  my  instigation,  is  free,  and  has  been  free  for 
days." 

"Impossible !     We  get  daily  reports." 

"Very  well,  senor.  But  what  will  you  say  if  he,  Ruiz,  will  this 
night  meet  a  force  of  the  Texans,  of  what  size  I  know  not,  and  guide 
them  into  town?" 

"Stuff !     They  would  but  come  to  their  death." 

"Let  him  say  on  what  he  bases  his  information,"  suggested 
Sancho. 

"I  heard  the  priest  say  that  he  objected  not  to  the  prisoner's 
escape,  but  to  the  fact  that  Ruiz  intended  to  introduce  a  rebel  force 
to  take  a  part." 

"He  is  only  a  half  traitor,  then,"  said  the  officer. 

"This  needs  action,"  said  Sancho. 

"It  does.  I  am  thinking  about  the  best  means  to  pursue  to  bag 
the  game." 

"It  is  very  simple,  senor." 

"Yours  is  not  a  military  mind,  Sancho.  We  of  the  army  know  our 
power,  the  disposition  of  our  surroundings  and  at  the  proper  time  we 
make  a  move." 

"You  should  certainly  get  this  American  back  to  his  cell  or  sh 
him  at  once,  and  the  traitor,  Ruiz,  should  have  no  mercy." 

"What  say  you  to  the  Reverend  Ignacio;  to  the  recreant  jail 
to  Beatrice,  the  Navarro  beauty  with  an  American  education  ?" 

"They  should  be  arrested."' 

"They  shall  be  arrested !" 

"All?" 

"All." 

"And  punished?" 

"And  shot." 

"Don  Juan  has  influence." 

"Not  an  ounce.     The  general  has  done  with  him  and  he  sho 
answer  for  the  treason  of  his  daughter." 

"And  overlook  her  act?     It  would  be  a  pity  to  immolate  so  m 
beauty." 

"Her  beauty  is  of  little  moment  to  you  or  me  or  any  oilier  Mr 


GUY  RAYMOND.  373 

can.  There  is  but  one  punishment  for  (reason,  and  ihat  is  in^lani 
death.  If  the  general,  el  presidenle.  \\ere  here  tln'v  would  all  he 
shot  tomorrow.  Excuse  me,  Sunoho.  until  I  send  for  flie  officer  of  the 
guard.  There  is  no  use  disturbing  the  general  and  I  will  show  you 
how  to  block  the  game  of  these  traitors." 

As  he  said  this  the  little  officer  stepped  io  the  further  door  and 
rapped  three  times,  then  resumed  his  seat.  It  was  only  a  moment 
before  an  orderly  appeared  at  the  other  door  and  saluted. 

"The  presence  of  the  officer  of  the  guard  is  required, here  at  once; 
quick,  sir,  and  let  him  know  it." 

The  soldier  saluted,  backed  out  of  the  door  and  was  gone." 

"Now,  Sancho ;  you  say  it  is  my  move." 

"Your  move." 

"I'll  just  take  this  knight  that  has  troubled  me  so  long,  and  now 
you  are  in  check  from  my  queen." 

"If  your  military  moves  are  no  better  than  your  chess  plays,  your 
enemies  will  outwit  you/7  said  Sancho,  as  he  moved  his  remaining 
knight  into  a  position  checkmating  his  adversary. 

"It's  all  owing  to  my  mind  being  absorbed  in  the  news  brought 
by  Senor  Halfen,"  said  the  lieutenant. 

Here  the  orderly  returned,  announcing  the  sergeant  of  the  guard, 
who  immediately  put  in  an  appearanc. 

"Well,  sir,  where  is  the  lieutenant  of  the  guard?" 

"He  left  with  the  patrol,  your  worship." 

"For  what?" 

"A  report  came  from  post  No.  10  that  a  boat  was  heard  to  pass 
down  the  river.  It  was  first  taken  for  a  log,  but  a  picket  said  he 
heard  a  voice  that  could  only  have  come  from  the  thing  he  saw  pass, 
be  it  boat,  or  log,  or  what  else." 

"The  tonto !  There  is  not  a  boat  in  Bcxar,  and  he  is  on  a  fool's 
errand.  I  have  work  for  you,  sergeant.  Take  six  men  of  the  patrol 
force  and  go  at  once  to  the  carcel.  You  will  enter  the  jailer's  house 
and  arrest  everybody  in  it,  be  it  the  jailer  himself,  or  priest,  or  bishop, 
woman  or  child.  I  suspect  the  prisoners  are  out  of  their  cells,  one 
an  American,  the  other  the  traitor  Ruiz,  whom  you  know.  Arrest 
them  and,  as  I  said,  every  soul  to  be  found  there,  except  the  sentinels 
on  duty,  and  march  them  to  these  headquarters.  Go  at  once." 

The  sergeant  saluted  and  retired. 

"I  will  show  you,  Sancho,  who  will  beat  in  this  uamc." 

"Kni/  is  against  yon,  and  a  schemer.  This  gentleman  says  he 
has  been  on  I  of  jail  for  days." 

"Why  did  yon  not  inform  us,  Senor  Halfen?'' 


374  GUY  EAYMOND. 

"I  am  not  a  professional  informer,  sir;  besides  he  is  so  well  dis- 
guised in  his  long  beard  that  I  would  never  have  recognized  him. 
learned  only  tonight  that  it  was  he." 

"A  long  beard,  you  said  ?" 

"Yes,  reaching  to  the  waist." 

The  two  friends  interchanged  significant  looks. 

It  was  a  few  minutes  to  midnight  by  the  lieutenant's  watch 
the  sergeant  had  received  his  orders  to  arrest  the  inmates  of  Bonito's 
establishment.  To  impress  uj>on  Sancho  and  the  Creole  his  ad- 
mirable self-command,  he  chose  other  topics  for  discussion  so  soon 
as  the  subordinate  had  disappeared.  Military  matters,  his  own 
bravery  in  several  engagements  in  which  he  had  taken  a  part,  the 
dispicable  character  of  the  American  Texans,  were  subjects  briefly 
considered  in  the  course  of  a  desultory  conversation.  Meanwhile  the 
time  seemed  to  drag  to  the  occupants  of  the  office.  Without,  the 
blackness  had  given  way  to  the  even  shadowless  light  of  the  after 
night  as  the  eastern  constellations,  mounting  from  the  horizon,  added 
their  glow  to  the  silver  luster  of  the  meridian.  A  singular  stillness, 
broken  solely  by  the  notes  of  nature,  rested  over  the  city.  The 
caged  bird  on  the  back  veranda  whistled  a  lively  answer  to  his  free 
challenger  in  the  top  of  an  adjacent  cottonwood,  while  the  hooting 
of  a  distant  owl,  the  yelping  of  a  cur,  or  the  crow  of  an  ambitious 
cock  served  to  break  the  monotony  of  the  night-watch.  Below  the 
veranda  the  cool  eddies  of  the  river  broke  into  ripples  where  they 
touched  the  shallows  of  the  opposite  bank  and  sent  the  music  of  the 
contact  on  the  bosom  of  the  fresh  November  wind. 

What?  Hist!  Was  it  a  splash  in  the  water?  It  might  have 
been  a  dead  limb,  long  decayed,  which  finally  parting  from  the  parent 
tree,  had  fallen  to  the  stream  to  be  borne  on  and  on,  perhaps  to  be 
the  sport  of  salt  waves  and  ocean  currents,  until  its  texture  would 
be  pregnant  with  a  diversity  of  sea  life.  Deception  so  enters  into 
human  experience.  The  senses  are  often  at  fault  and  the  imagination, 
with  the  least  touch  of  the  superstitious  in  the  mental  makeup,  will 
lend  its  aid  to  mislead  and  mystify  and  perplex. 

What?  A  splash  again!  A  night  hawk  flew  from  its  low  perch 
on  a  limb  that  reached  above  the  water  as  if  scared  away. 

Another  splash,  a  low  word  of  command,  a  dark  object  shot  under 
the  bank  opposite  the  shallows,  and  a  grating  sound  followed,  m 
unlike  the  scraping  of  a  boat's  bottom  upon  the  rocky  shore. 

No  imagination  here.     The  sentinel,  if  he  had  been  posted  belc 
the  veranda,  could  have  Ix-on  considerably  enlightened  by  the  sound* 
of  the  landing  and  also  by  the  words  which  followed,  if  he  understood 
the  English  tongue. 


der 
no, 

low 

Qds 


GUY  RAYMOND.  375 

"Nathan,  secure  the  boat.  Euiz,  out  in  front  and  direct  the  move- 
ment. Guide,  put  youreslf  under  the  instructions  of  Euiz.  All 
secure  your  arms  and  see  that  everything  is  right."  Karnes  gave  the 
instructions  in  a  quick  undertone,  and  nimbly  jumped  to  the  bank. 

While  the  men  were  being  formed  and  the  arms  inspected,  Euiz, 
at  his  suggestion,  went  forward  to  reconnoiter.  He  was  dressed  as  a 
sergeant  of  the  Mexican  army. 

Euiz  found  no  impediment  to  his  progress  until  he  reached  the 
sentinel.  The  latter  was  walking  from  him,  and  as  he  was  not  per- 
ceived, he  made  a  detour  and  approached  as  if  coming  from  Main 
street.  The  sentinel  challenged  him. 

Euiz  promptly  replied : 

"Sergeant  from  the  outer  guard." 

"Approach,  sergeant,  and  give  the  countersign." 

Euiz  approached  a  few  steps,  halted  and  answered  correctly: 

"Monterey." 

mt  is  your  business,  sergeant  ?" 
dsh  to  see  the  adjutant." 
'ass  on ;  the  orderly  is  in  the  rear." 

Seeing  but  three  or  four  men  tying  in  the  guard  room,  Euiz  asked 
the  sentinel  where  his  sergeant  was,  with  the  balance  of  the  force. 

The  sentinel  merely  knew  that  the  sergeant  had  orders  to  proceed 
to  the  ca reel  and  arrest  everybody  there  and  in  the  jailer's  house. 

"Is  that  the  truth  ?"  asked  Euiz,  rather  dismayed. 

"The  truth,  sergeant;  the  lieutenant  ordered  him  to  arrest  even 
a  b.iphop  if  he  found  one  there.  But  go,  sergeant,  lest  I  be  seen  talk- 
ing on  post." 

Euiz  left  as  if  to  go  to  interview  the  adjutant,  but  after  gaining 
1he  ivju-  of  the  house,  he  darted  down  the  bank  to  communicate  with 
Karnes. 

"We  have  no  time  to  lose,  senor." 

"What's  up?" 

"A  squad  has  gone  to  the  jail  to  arrest  everybody,  the  jailer  in- 
cluded. Let  me  have  command  for  awhile,  and  let  no  word  be  spoken 
but  in  Spanish. 

"Fall  in,  men,  in  single  rank!  There!  File  up  the  bank  and 
Senor  Karnes  will  form  you  and  hold  you  at  the  edge  of  the  veranda." 

Euiz  led  the  way,  and  when  the  force  was  aligned  as  he  had  in- 
iiin;ited,  he  directed  the  guide  to  follow  him.  They  went  around  the 
end  of  flic  building  and  Unix,  approaching  the  sentinel,  stated  fthat 
the  adjutant  desired  to  see  him  on  some  important  matter,  and  sent 


376  GUY  RAYMOND. 

him  orders  to  surrender  his  post  to  the  soldier  with  him  for  a  few  mo- 
ments 

The  sentinel  hesitated,  but  concluding  that  the  adjutant's  orders 
had  to  be  obeyed,  he  finally  allowed  himself  to  be  relieved.  He  ac- 
companied Ruiz  to  the  rear,  where  he  was  promptly  made  prisoner 
and  cautioned  that  a  failure  to  be  quiet  would  cost  him  his  life. 
Ruiz  next  step  was  to  interview  the  orderly,  whom  he  discovered 
nodding  on  a  bench  in  the  room  adjoining  the  office.  He  shook  the 
sleepy  fellow,  who  bounced  up  and  demanded  what  was  wanted. 

"Tell  the  lieutenant  that  I  am  back  from  the  carcel  and  that  1 
require  more  force  to  arrest  the  persons  there." 

"Are  you  the  sergeant?     You  are  not  Sergeant  Ramirez." 

"Do  as  I  command  you  or  I  will  make  a  hole  in  that  sleepy  head. 
Man,  you  are  dreaming." 

The  orderly  obe}^ed,  but  gave  a  dubious  look  at  the  sergeant  as  he 
rapped  at  the  door  of  the  office. 

When  the  rap  was  given  the  lieutenant  was  in  the  midst  of  a  de- 
scription of  a  charge  in  which  he  participated  once  upon  a  time  dur- 
ing one  of  the  numerous  revolutions  which  had  torn  his  country. 
He  allowed  the  rap  to  be  repeated  before  he  gave  the  permission : 

"Entre." 

The  orderly  opened  the  door  and  announced : 

"Your  worship — the  sergeant — he  says  he  is  the  sergeant- 
Ruiz  pulled  the  fellow's  blouse. 

"Say  what  I  told  you!"  he  whispered. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you,  tonto — are  you  sleep?"  asked  the 
lieutenant. 

"May  be  I  am,  vour  worship ;  he  said  I.  was  dreaming." 

"Who?" 

"The  sergeant." 

"Oh!     The  sergeant;  let  him  in.     Perhaps  he  has  the  prisoners.' 

Ruiz  pulled  his  cap  over  his  face  and,  standing  in  the  door,  saluted. 

"Senor  lieutenant,  the  sergeant  whom  you  sent  to  the  carcel 
quests  you  to  send  him  assistance,  or  to  come  in  person  yourself." 

"Who  are  you,  sir?" 

"Sergeant  of  patrol  No.  2 ;  off  duty  until  four  o'clock." 

"You  are  a  volunteer,  then." 

"Si,  senor." 

"Can't  seven  men  make  prisoners  of  one  Gringo,  two  women 
a  padre?" 

"(There  is  no  time  to  lose,"  said  Ruiz,  thinking  of  his  own  e: 
pedition. 


ed  the 


GUT  RAYMOND.  377 


"I  grant  you  that,  sergeant,  but- 


Ruiz  gave  a  shrill  whistle,  much  to  the  astonishment  of  the  three 
occupants  of  the  office..  Before  an  explanation  could  be  demanded, 
six  armed  soldiers  entered  the  door,  Ruiz  having  stepped  aside  to  clear 
the  way. 

"What  means  this,  you  dogs?"  demanded  the  lieutenant,  ex- 
citedly. 

"It  means  that  you  are  prisoners  and  that  five  hundred  men  are 
inside  of  your  lines,  brought  in  by  the  traitor  to  the  tyrant  of  Mexico, 
by  me — Manuel  Ruiz.  One  word  from  your  cowardly  throats  will 
settle  it  with  you  for  all  time.  Men,  seize  this  upstart  and  bind  and 
gag  him.  One  will  do." 

"Try  your  hand,  Perry,"  said  Hamilton. 

"You  do  not  include  me  in  this  arrest,"  said  Ducio. 

"The  French  gentleman  is  included,"  said  Ruiz.  "I  have  a  crow 
to  pick  with  you." 

It  did  not  take  long  to  secure  the  prisoners. 

"Now,  sir  lieutenant,  upon  the  truthfulness  of  your  answers  will 
depend  your  worthless  life.  If  you  lie  in  any  particular  you  shall 
never  more  strut  in  gold  lace  and  brass  buttons." 

The  little  lieutenant,  already  bound,  was  completely  cowed.  He 
gave  a  trembling  promise  to  state  the  truth. 

"Where  does  Almonte  sleep?"  was  Ruiz's  first  interrogatory. 

"He  slept  in  the  next  room  south  while  here." 

"While  here  ?     Is  he  not  here  now  ?" 

"He  left  this  afternoon  for  Matamoras." 

"Are  you  lying?" 

"Upon  my  honor." 

"Honor !     As  if  it  ever  dwelt  in  your  carcass." 

Ruiz  now  drew  Karnes  aside  for  consultation.  It  was  evident 
thai  they  must  proceed  at  once  to  the  carcel  to  secure  the  safety  of 
(Ju\  Ramond  and  to  keep  from  harm  those  who  were  guilty  of  having 
assisted  him  in  the  incipient  step  towards  escape.  The  safety  of  the 
adventurers  now  rested  upon  clerity  of  movement.  It  was  decided 
to  not  divide  the  force,  but  to  take  the  prisoners,  gagged  and  bound, 
with  them  to  the  carcel.  The  dispositions  all  being  made,  the  sentinel 
whom  Ruiz  had  substituted  for  the  one  on  post,  was  instructed  to 
allow  no  one  to  enter  the  house  during  their  absence  at  the  carcel. 
Manuel  was  well  posted  as  to  the  character  of  the  low  type  of  the 
Mexican  soldier,  and  finding  that  the  orderly  and  the  sentinel  he  had 
relieved  were  enlisted  convicts,  he  had  no  trouble  in  persuading  them 
to  join  him,  under  promise^  of  good  rations  and  pay,  besides  short 


378  GUY  RAYMOND. 

service.        This   inducement,   coupled   with   the   assurance   that  t 
Texans  were  virtually  in  possession  of  the  town,  settled  their  cases, 
and  they  fell  into  line  with  their  muskets.   »The  expedition  moved 
off  as  the  regular  patrol  No.   1,  with  Bonito's  house  as  their  d 
tination. 


CHAPTER  LIT. 


The  time  did  not  drag  with  Guy  after  Ruiz  left  him  to  meet 
Karnes  and  the  boat.  The  moments  glided  by  on  the  fleet  wings 
of  congenial  intercourse.  The  beautiful  woman  whose  face  had 
haunted  his  dreams,  whose  being  seemed  to  have  become  unaccount- 
ably interwoven  with  his  own  through  the  mysterious  operations  of 
love,  was  his  companion.  For  the  first  time,  in  close  communion, 
they  read  in  each  other's  eyes  the  decree  of  fate  which  assigned 
to  them  a  common  pathway  through  the  fields  which  mortals  tread. 
It  was  the  intuition  of  natural  selection,  the  magnetism  of  an  as- 
similation which  never  fails  to  become  active  when  subjected  to  the 
blended  forces  of  circumstance  and  opportunity  that  converged  the 
paths  of  these  two  beings  until  they  blended,  to  point  the  way  through 
a  future,  tinted  with  the  hues  of  anticipated  joys  and  roseate  with 
the  hopes  born  of  youth  and  health  and  virtuous  lives.  They  im- 
proved the  opportunity  and  were  barely  conscious  of  a  call  made  for 
Father  Ignacio  to  attend  to  some  spiritual  duty.  Linda  was  a  wit- 
ness to  a  devotion  which  inspired  in  her  a  nameless  content,  that 
while  it  soothed  yet  pained,  which  brought  a  joy  mingled  with  a 
dropping  tear.  The  cooing  of  the  doves  afforded  an  interesting  pic- 
ture, but  it  failed  to  arrest  a  burning  desire  to  witness  the  departure 
of  the  one  in  danger.  Linda,  in  fact,  was  awed  by  a  conscious  super- 
iority of  the  lovers  to  herself.  Her  sphere  was  more  humble.  The 
peculiarities  of  her  father  debased  him  to  the  plane  of  monomania, 
if  it  fell  short  of  an  alienation.  The  quiet  which  reigned  without 
was  the  counterpart  of  the  peace  which  prevailed  where  love  held 
his  sway.  The  moments  sped  until  the  first  hour  of  morning  began 
to  grow,  when  the  stillness  of  the  plaza  was  broken  by  the  hum  of 
voices  in  seeming  altercation.  The  disturbance  was  followed  a  liti 
later  by  the  return  of  Father  Ignacio,  who  appeared  worried  ai 
excited.  To  looks  of  earnest  inquiry,  he  remarked : 

"A  spy  has  witnessed  your  presence  here,  Senor  Raymond,  am 
squad  of  the  patrol  has  been  sent  to  arrest  you  and  all  who  are  to 
found  in  this  place."' 

"And  Ruiz?     Has  he  been  heard  from?" 

"I  know  not,  senor.     I  met  the  patrol  at  the  gate  and  throus 


GUY  RAYMOND.  379 

my  influence  kept  them  out  until  I  could  get  time  to  notify  you." 

"We  will  defend  the  house/'  said  Guy. 

"But  you  are  one;  they  are  many." 

"Miguel  is  here/'  said  Beatrice. 

"We  will  hold  out  until  overpowered,  at  all  events.  It  would  be 
base  to  surrender  to  the  cut- throats  and  be  led  like  sheep  to  execution. 
Father,  you  had  better  retire." 

"No,  my  son;  I  will  remain  to  absolve  you,  for  resistance  will  bo 
certain  death.  I  believe  that  with  your  last  breath  you  will  see  the 
light  of  faith/' 

Strong  blows  on  the  graden  gate  now  were  heard,  showing  the  de- 
termination of  the  sergeant  to  carry  his  orders  into  execution.  At 
this  juncture  Linda  pleaded  that  they  all  should  repair  to  the  hall, 
which,  while  it  could  be  taken  by  the  attacking  party,  was  a  stronger 
position,  with  only  two  communications,  one  leading  into  her  anart- 
ment,  the  other  opening  into  the  court.  Both  were  furnished  with 
stout  oaken  doors,  capable  of  great  resistance.  Father  Ignacio  sec- 
onded the  suggestion  of  Linda;  Beatrice  urged  its  adoption  and  Guy 
yielded  to  their  persuasion.  The  party  was  only  well  behind  the  bar- 
ricaded door  of  the  hall  when  the  attacking  party  burst  into  the 
room  just  vacated.  With  a  yell  of  disappointment  they  dealt  blows 
upon  the  stout  door,  which  alone  remained  between  them  and  their 
prey.  Guy  stood  calmly  by,  armed  with  his  rifle  and  a  heavy  naval 
cutlass,  the  property  of  Bonito,  which  Linda  had  procured  from  her 
father's  room.  Miguel,  towering  above  the  others,  stood  close  to  his 
mistress,  with  determination  in  his  eye  and  Jose's  discarded  bar  in 
his  hand,  ready  to  do  execution  in  her  service.  Guy's  object  was  to 
keep  the  patrol  at  bay  until  the  arrival  of  Euiz,  which  he  felt  sure 
could  not  be  long  delayed.  His  only  trouble  was  his  ignorance  of  the 
exact  status  of  affairs,  the  size  of  the  attacking  party  and  the  support 
they  would  have  within  the  next  hour.  These  and  a  hundred  other 
thoughts  passed  through  his  mind  while  he  watched  the  door  and  re- 
plied mechanically  to  remarks  of  the  ladies,  who  were  wonderfully 
self  possessed,  despite  the  danger  which  menaced  them.  Guy  pre- 
vailed upon  them  to  enter  Bonito's  room,  but  they  filled  its  door- 
way watching  the  defenders.  Father  Ignacio  walked  the  floor,  saying 
his  rosary  with  a  depth  of  earnestness  that  indicated  his  belief  in  the 
great  danger  which  menaced  his  friend. 

Finally  the  blows  on  the  door  ceased,  while  a  hubbub  of  voices, 
mixed  with  oaths,  came  from  the  assailants.  Guy  was  listening  to 
catch  the  import  of  their  words,  when  suddenly  the  court  door  rattled 
and  a  voice  not  to  be  mistaken  called  excitedly : 


380  GUY  RAYMOND. 

• 

"Linda!     Linda!     Abra  la  pnerta  !r 

"It  is  my  father,"  said  Linda. 

"Go,  Linda,  and  ask  who  is  with  him,"  said  Guy. 

Linda  obeyed. 

"He  is  alone,  but  there  is  a  sentinel  in  the  court,"  she  reported. 

"Admit  him,  Miguel,  but  close  the  door  quick." 

The  mozo  did  as  he  was  ordered. 

Bonito  entered. 

"In  the  name  of  all  the  saints, what  is  this?  El  pajarro  with  my  ol 
cutlass.  Y — este — gigante — gigante — Miguel — with  a  club— el  padre 
saying  his  beads — and — por  Dios — the  Senorita  Navarro  ?  This  is  the 
night  of  nights.  Linda  you  have  roused  the  hornets.  The  drunken 
patrol  are  sacking  my  house,  while  the  notary  lies  dead  in  his  blood 
upon  the  floor  of  his  office." 

"Be  quiet,  Bonito !  This  is  a  serious  moment.  I  wish  to  hear 
every  sound  from  that  room,"  said  Guy. 

"Serious !  I  should  say,  but  serious  to  me.  How  came  you  out  of 
the  cell  without  passing  the  sentinel?  You  are  as  supple  as  a  spirit. 
Has  Ruiz  also  turned  to  vapor  and  floated  out  through  the  gratings? 
Come,  senor,  although  it  is  useless,  you  must  go  back  to  your  cell. 
"I  have  sent  my  surplus  sentinel  to  report  this  drunken  mob  to  head- 
quarters. With  you  in  the  cell  and  the  mob  in  the  guard  house  I— 

"They  are  no  mob,  Bonito.  They  have  orders  to  arrest  me,  who 
have  escaped  from  my  cell.  I  will  not  surrender.  At  present  I 
command  here.  Go  to  your  room  and  be  quiet  or  it  may  be  the  worse 
for  you." 

Bonito  regarded  his  prisoner  for  a  moment.     Guy's  determined 
expression  had  its  effect  and  Bonito  shuffled  off  to  his  room.     As  he 
passed  the  priest,  he  gave  him  a  look  of  significance,  as  he  nodd( 
his  head  towards  Guy  and  muttered : 

"Pajarro  tan  fuerte  y  bravo !" 

The  blows  again  began  to  rain  upon  the  door,  but  this  time  wil 
regularity  and  a  concussion  which  indicated  force  sufficient  enough  to 
effect  its  demolition.  The  crash  came  sooner  than  anticipated.  Half 
the  splintered  door  fell  in  and  a  soldier  jumped  into  the  hall,  only  to 
be  felled  by  the  giant  Miguel.  A  shout  from  the  priest,  screams  from 
the  ladies,  an  anathema  from  Bonito,  the  report  of  Guy's  rifle  were 
mingled  with  the  yells  of  the  Mexicans  as  they  worked  on  the  remain- 
ing panel  to  enlarge  the  passage.  Guy  threw  aside  his  gun  and  bran- 
dished the  cutlass  for  work  at  close  quarters,  when  amid  the  din 
caught  familiar  shouts  that  could  <-<>mr  alone  from  American  throats 

"Texas  and  liberty!     Clean  out  the  greasers!" 


he 

: 


L-l  J.J. 

? 


GUY  EAYMOND.  381 

The  words  electrified  him.  He  sprang  through  the  breach,  and 
circling  the  deadly  blade,  he  dealt  telling  blows  right  and  left.  Guy's 
leap  anticipated  the  giant's,  who  followed  the  courageous  youth  and 
protected  him  from  more  than  one  bayonet  thrust.  The  melee  was  at 
its  height,  when  Beatrice  fell  almost  fainting  at  the  side  of  her  lover, 
who  was  closely  pressed  by  three  or  four  soldiers  with  clubbed  muskets. 
Guy  ordered  Miguel  to  carry  her  back,  while  having  recovered  some 
of  his  wind,  he  dealt  still  more  vigorous  blows  at  his  adversaries,  whom 
he  was  pressing  back,  when  welcome  cries  again  rent  the  air. 

"Clean  'em  up,  boys !     Old  Nathan's  in  the  lead." 

The  entrance  pell  mell  from  the  garden  of  eight  or  ten  Mexicans 
followed  this  characteristic  cry.  The  long  anatomy  of  Nathan  Eoach 
followed,  while  he  gave  rapid  blows  with  his  clubbed  musket.  The 
appearance  in  quick  succession  of  Hamilton,  Perry,  Karnes  and  Jones, 
cheering  at  the  top  of  their  voices,  indicated  a  victory.  The  Mexi- 
cans in  the  room  threw  down  their  arms  and  begged  for  quarter  on 
their  knees.  The  rescuers  sprang  forward  and  grasped  the  hand  of 
Guy,  who  stood  panting  for  breath,  his  cutlass  red  with  blood  and 
his  own  arm  bleeding. 

The  scene  in  the  room  at  this  moment  verged  upon  the  chaotic. 
Karnes  and  Ruiz  shook  hands  with  Guy,  and  then  began  their  hur- 
ried preparations  for  the  retreat,  which,  in  all  the  programme,  was  to 
be  the  most  difficult  as  to  its  safe  accomplishment,  and  was  to  be  the 
all  important  act  to  crown  the  expedition  with  success.  Linda  was 
comforting  Beatrice,  just  without  in  the  hall.  Father  Ignacio  was  not 
a  moment  after  Guy  in  entering  the  scene  of  conflict,  but  from  the 
fury  of  the  fight,  his  pacific  efforts  were  futile,  and  his  offices  were 
effective  only  when  the  din  had  given  place  to  low  moans  and  cries 
of  suffering. 

His  first  act  was  to  congratulate  Guy  and  request  Ruiz  to  tie  up 
the  wound  in  the  hero's  arm. 

Bonito  stood  in  the  hall  door,  apparently  speechless,  surveying 
the  general  wreck  in  the  apartment  and  contemplating  the  damage 
to  his  domicile.  He  was  roused  from  his  reverie  by  a  loud  knocking 
at  the  court  door. 

'Tor  mi  vida!"  he  exclaimed.     "What  is  next?" 

"Open  that  door!"  commanded  Ruiz. 

'"You,  have  waked  up  with  a  vengenace,"  said  the  jailer,  as  he 
moved  to  obey  the  order,  remembering  in  all  the  excitement  how 
Ruiz  had  always  been  asleep  in  the  far  corner  of  the  cell  whenever 
he  had  gone  to  minister  to  the  prisoner's  wants. 

Bonito  turnd  the  bolt  in  the  lock  with  some  misgiving  as  what 


382  GUY  EAYMOND. 


was  to  appear.  The  creaking  of  the  bolt  was  followed  by  an  im- 
patient push  from  the  outside  that  in  no  little  degree  disturbed  his 
center  of  gravity,  and  which  under  the  more  favorable  circumstances 
of  his  wonted  authority,  would  have  called  forth  an  interminable 
jower  on  his  part.  The  first  person  who  appeared  was  the  sentinel, 
whose  enforced  entrance  was  apparent  from  the  rope  around  his 
body  which  seemed  to  have  pinioned  his  arms  together  with  his  mus- 
ket in  one  embrace.  Two  soldiers,  neither  having  guns,  had  the 
luckless  sentry  in  charge,  and  brushing  the  fat  jailer  aside,  they 
conducted  their  prisoner  into  the  room  just  as  Ruiz  had  finished 
binding  up  Guy's  wound. 

The  latter,  looking  with  surprise  at  the  new  comers,  Manuel 
whispered  to  him  that  his  cousin  Trevino  and  Jose  had  captured 
the  sentinel  by  lassoing  him  from  the  top  of  the  wall,  thus  securing 
the  last  of  the  force  who  was  at  liberty  to  spread  the  news  of  the  raid. 

When  Bonito  was  forced  aside  by  Trevino  and  Jose,  he  was  thrown 
over  towards  the  other  side  of  the  hall,  the  impetus  of  the  movement 
carrying  him  to  and  seating  him  upon  the  lounge.  To  his  further 
dismay  the  concealment  to  his  trap  gave  way,  Miguel's  temporary 
repairs  having  proven  unequal  to  the  task  of  supporting  his  weight. 

"Otra  mala  fortuna  I"  he  exclaimed,  as  the  opening  to  the  regions 
below  was  plainly  visible. 

As  the  attention  of  everyone  was  fixed  upon  more  exciting  de- 
tails, neither  the  jailers  fall  nor  the  derangement  of  the  trap  were 
noticed.  This  becoming  apparent  to  him,  Bonito  easily  let  himself 
down  the  opening  and  disappeared  into  the  vault.  A  hasty  council 
of  war  was  now  inaugurated  to  consider  some  points  of  embarrass^ 
ment  which  the  unforseen  incidents  of  the  night  had  raised  to  con- 
fuse the  plan  of  procedure.  It  would  not  be  prudent  to  take  the 
dozen  or  so  prisoners  through  the  streets  to  attract  attention,  or  to 
cumber  their  movements  in  case  of  an  attack,  when  defensive  energies 
could  not  brook  the  restraint  which  their  surveillance  would  impose. 
Kuiz  and  Karnes  admitted  Guy  to  the  conference,  and  the  three 
moved  to  one  side  for  an  exchange  of  opinions,  while  to  Hamilton  was 
entrusted  the)  duty  to  get  the  prisoners  together  in  line  and  to  see 
that  they  retained  no  description  of  weapon. 

The  elegant  Mississippian  felt  his  importance  at  once. 

"Mr.  Roach !     Marshal  the  prisoners  already  in  the  house. 

"Mr.  Jones !  Go  out  and  get  that  bundle  of  buttons  and  gold  lace 
and  his  two  companions  and  let  them  fall  in  with  the  inside  greasers. 

"Perry!  Excuse  me — Mr.  Asbury!  When  the  line  is  formed, 
go  through  their  pockets  and  examine  their  blouses  for  weapons, 


GUY  RAYMOND.  383 

offensive  or  defensive,  everything,  from  a  jack  knife  to  an  Arkansas 
tooth-pick." 

Hamilton  gave  vent  to  these  orders  in  rapid  words  and  with  an 
air  of  authority. 

Nathan  was  rather  mystified  as  to  the  bounds  of  his  instructions 
as  embodied  in  the  term  "marshal."  He  was  quite  sure  he  was  to 
dispose  of  the  captured  greasers,  but  whether  it  was  meant  that  he 
should  employ  the  summary  measures  of  Mexican  custom  or  Indian 
practice,  or  the  more  humane  mode  of  his  own  civilization,  he  was 
somewhat  at  a  loss. 

"  'Pears  to  me,  Mister  Hamilton,  that  Perry's  orders  orter  been 
given  fust,  as  l'.se  got  to  dispose  of  'em.  I  'spose  you  want  me  to 
choose  the  way,  seem'  you  didn't  say  ef  I  was  to  do  it  injun  fashion, 
or  greaser  fashion,  or  how." 

"Get  them  together,  you  elongated  specimen  of  the  genus  homo. 
Put  the  prisoners  into  line,  everyone  that's  able  to  stand." 

"Now  you're  talkin'  'Merican,  or,  at  least,  part  was.  Come, 
you  yaller-bellies,  get  into  line." 

The  prisoners  not  comprehending,  Nathan  seized  one  by  the  col- 
lar and  put  him  in  position,  and  kept  repeating  the  act  until  he 
had  eight  of  the  captured  men  in  the  required  positions.  Perry, 
who  had  been  waiting  the  movements  of  Roach,  deftly  searched  the 
men,  capturing  two  sheath  knives. 

Jones,  who  had  been  sent  for  the  outsiders,  returned  after  a  few 
moments  with  the  lieutenant  and  Sancho,  reporting  Ducio  could  not 
be  found.  This  item  of  intelligence  at  once  adjourned  the  council 
of  war,  as  the  escape  of  the  Creole  meant  mischief  to  them. 

"How  came  he  to  escape?"  questioned  Ruiz  of  the  man  who  had 
been  placed  in  charge  of  the  three  captured  at  headquarters. 

"He  did  not  escape,  senor.  A  man,  whom  I  supposed  had  been 
sent  by  you,  came  up  only  a  moment  ago  and  said  that  you  wanted 
the  Frenchman,  and  I  allowed  him  to  leave.  He  and  your  supposed 
messenger,  I  thought,  entered  this  house." 

"Describe  the  messenger." 

"He  was  a  youth  of  slender  build,  and  by  the  light  of  my  cig- 
arette I  saw  he  wore  a  red  sash." 

"Fool !  How  could  you  turn  over  a  prisoner  to  a  stranger  ? 
Search  the  garden." 

The  garden  was  quickly  beat  up,  but  no  sign  of  the  missing  Ducio 
could  be  seen. 

When  Jones  was  entering  the  house  to  report  the  news  of  Ducio's 
>,  two  figures,  one  tall  and  muscular,  the  other  slender  and  of 


384  GUY  KAYMOND. 

medium  height,  stole  quietly  from  beneath  the  banana  tree  in  the 
dark  corner  and  hurried,  unobserved,  out  into  the  plaza. 

Inside  the  excitement  bordered  on  confusion. 

Under  the  escort  of  Guy,  all  the  prisoners,  except  the  lieutenant 
and  Sancho  were  marched  quickly  to  the  court  and  thence  to  the  cells, 
a  demand  for  the  keys  having  been  promptly  met  by  Linda,  who  pro- 
cured them  from  her  father's  room.  Every  captured  man  able  to  be 
moved  was  thus  safely  jailed. 

Preparations  for  departure  were  now  at  once  begun.  The  men 
were  formed  in  the  court  to  resemble  the  regular  patrol,  the  two  re- 
maining prisoners  being  placed  in  the  center  of  the  column,  and  here 
they  awaited  the  order  to  move. 

In  Bonito's  room  Beatrice  and  Linda,  each  with  an  arm  encircling 
the  others  waist,  stood  in  tearful  anxiety.  The  scenes  they  had 
witnessed,  trying  as  they  were,  were  as  naught  compared  with  the 
dread  which  would  creep  into  their  hearts  lest  the  termination  of 
the  adventure  should  prove  more  tragical  still.  The  danger  was  yet 
ahead. 

When  Guy  entered  to  say  good-bye  the  priest  and  Linda  con- 
siderately left  the  apartment. 

"Oh,  Guy!  The  danger  which  surrounds  you  emboldens  me  to 
cast  aside  reserve,"  said  Beatrice,  throwing  herself  into  her  lover'? 
arms. 

1  Guy  held  her  to  his  breast  for  a  moment,  then  pushing  her  to  arm's 
length,  he  looked  yearningly  into  the  depths  of  her  eyes. 

"Beatrice,  it  is  hard  to  part  at  the  very  moment  when  the  light 
of  your  love  first  dawns  upon  me.  It  is  hard  to  think  that  the  dangers 
which  await  me  this  night  may  be  the  arbiter  of  our  fates;  that  two 
lives  seemingly  destined  to  flow  in  unison  throughout  a  hopeful  fu- 
ture, may  be  this  day  separated  by  the  destruction  of  one.  I  go  to 
meet  whatever  exigency  may  be  in  waiting  with  that  calm  and  cool 
philosophy  which  alone  is  worthy  of  the  dignity  of  true  manhood. 
You  will  be  sustained  by  the  comforting  assurances  of  your  subtle 
faith.  Therefore  in  this,  our  parting  moment,  let  us  rise  above 
human  weakness,  and  resting  our  cause  with  human  virtue  and  human 
courage,  we  will  rely  upon  our  own  inherent  powers  to  survive  all 
casualties  and  overcome  all  obstacles  which  may  intervene  to  pre- 
vent a  happy  reunion." 

"Oh,  noble  Guy !  I  pray  that  I  may  be  worthy  of  a  love  so  true 
as  yours.  My  heart  goes  with  you  and  if — and  if — oh,  Guy !" 

"Darling,  I  must  be  going.  Every  moment  builds  up  more  danger 
in  my  path,  and  for  your  dear  sake  I  would  live." 


A> 

: 


GUY  EAYMOND.  385 

He  embraced  her  tenderly,  then  tore  himself  away.  As  he  passed 
through  the  court  he  took  leave  of  the  priest  and  Linda.  From  the 
latter  he  claimed  and  received  a  sister's  kiss,  bestowed  in  a  manner 
denoting  affection,  but  with  a  fervor  that  caused  the  recipient  to 
recall  the  circumstance  more  than  once  in  the  next  few  hours. 

In  the  court  Euiz,  as  sergeant,  took  charge,  and  giving  his  com- 
mands in  Spanish,  put  the  squad  in  motion. 

As  they  filed  out  into  the  street,  Father  Ignacio  looked  after  them 
from  the  narrow  entrance  and,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross,  he  mut- 
tered the  blessing: 

"Dominus  vobiscum." 

The  light  shone  from  the  Cabeza  de  Toro,  where  a  knot  of  men 
stood  in  the  doorway.  The  captive,  Sancho,  deeming  this  a  good 
opportunity  to  give  notice  of  his  detention  and  the  true  character 
of  the  party,  yelled  at  the  top  of  his  voice : 

"These  are  rebels  !     Help !     Help  I" 

"Take  that  for  your  pains,"  said  Hamilton,  clubbing  him  with  his 
musket. 

"Another  cry  and  you  are  a  dead  man,"  said  Ruiz  in  Spanish. 

Sturdily  they  moved  along  the  broken  streets,  the  walls  echoing 
their  measured  tread,  with  no  other  sounds  save  the  commands  of 
Ruiz,  uttered  in  mimicry  of  the  regular  sergeant  greeting  whatever 
ears  were  on  the  qui  vive.  The  hostile  city  was  sleeping  in  fancied 
security,  strong  in  its  appointments  for  defense  in  its  guards  and 
outposts,  little  dreaming  that  a  daring  band  of  "Gringos"  had  by  strat- 
egy penetrated  its  very  heart  and  seized  the  military  headquarters. 

The  party  safely  gained  the  vicinity  of  headquarters  into  which 
they  turned,  and  receiving  the  challenge  from  the  sentinel  still  on 
duty,  Ruiz  announced  his  party  as  the  patrol,  and  givng  the  counter- 
sign, passed  on  back  of  the  building  to  the  veranda.  Much  de- 
pended now  upon  time.  Ruiz  had  a  duty  to  perform,  which  he  had 
to  postpone  on  account  of  the  information  given  by  Ducio,  and  the 
consequent  descent  of  the  patrol  on  the  carcel.  Now  the  same  slip- 
pery Frenchman  was  at  large  ready  to  bring  down  the  whole  gar- 
rison upon  them. 

He  concluded  that  it  was  necessary  to  dare  in  order  to  accomplish. 
He  had  the  convicts  on  his  hands  and  numbers  were  a  disadvantage, 
unless  they  were  large  numbers.  Ruiz  was  equal  to  the  emergency, 
:uid  ho  speedily  gave  his  orders: 

"Mr.  Hamilton,  you  will  have  the  prisoner,  Sancho,  here;  no, 
not  tluil.  bundle  of  lace;  this  fellow;  have  him  and  those  two  volun- 
teer convicts  bound  and  gagged.  Also  similarly  secure  those  fellows 


e 

• 


386  GUT  RAYMOND. 

in  the  guard-room.  Lieutenant,  you  will  follow  me  into  your  office 
and  get  me  out  some  papers.  If  you  are  quick  and  obedient  it  will 
be  well  for  you,  but  hesitate  a  moment  and  your  dead  carcass  will  be 
food  for  the  river  fish." 

"I'd  like  his  coat/'  said  Nathan.  "Tarnation!  with  that  a'  coa 
I'd  git  a  ferlo  and  turn  half  the  gals  crazy  on  the  Sabine." 

"Silence  I"  said  Karnes.     "Every  mother's  son  keep  quiet/' 

Hamlton  carried  out  the  orders  to  bind  and  gag  the  prisoners, 
while  Ruiz  was  in  the  office  with  the  lieutenant. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  two  latter  returned,  Ruiz  tapping  his  breast 
pocket  in  reply  to  an  inquiry  from  Karnes,  signifying  that  he  had 
the  papers. 

"Who  was  that  one  wanting  this  pretty  coat?"  asked  Ruiz. 

"Me!"  answered  Nathan. 

"Well,  Mr.  Me,  you  can  have  it.  This  fellow  told  me  a  lie  while 
in  that  office,  and  to  punish  him  I  am  going  to  make  him  give  up 
his  coat.  I  know  he  would  almost  as  soon  die  as  to  lose  it.  Mr. 
Lieutenant,  pull  off  that  coat." 

The  officer  reluctantly  complied. 

Ruiz  took  the  garment,  and  pitching  it  to  Nathan,  the  latter 
caught  it  on  his  bayonet. 

"A  hole  in  it  to  start  on — and  nary  a  needlefull  of  darnin'  cotton 
left!" 

Nathan's  remark,  uttered  in  a  doleful  tone,  inspired  a  laugh, 
which,  in  spite  of  the  danger  of  discovery,  was  indulged  in  by  the 
whole  party. 

The  lieutenant  was  gagged  and  sent  to  keep  company  with  th 
other  captives.  Karnes  ordered  the  men  to  the  river  to  begin  th 
retreat  at  once. 

At  the  suggestion  of  Trevino,  himself,  Jose  and  the  three  me: 
whom  he  had  brought  from  his  camp  were  ferried  across  the  river 
so  that  they  could  make  a  detour  to  the  Alameda.     After  this  w 
successfully  effected,  the  sentinel  was  called  off  and   the  old   ere 
embarked,  with  Guy  along  to  augment  their  number. 


CHAPTER  LIII. 

Sunday  night  had  been  appointed  by  Ducio  Halfen  as  an  occasion 
for  a  long  interview  with  his  new  friend,  the  Senorita  de  la  Torre; 
but  the  impulsive  Creole  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  impart 
to  the  authorities  his  discovery  of  the  suspicious  appearances  of 


GUY  RAYMOND.  387 

affairs  at  the  carcel.  His  capture  by  the  raiding  band  under  Karnes 
and  Ruiz  prevented  him  from  a  later  fulfillment  of  the  engagement. 
The  no  less  impulsive  Josef  a  was  wroth  at  the  non-appearance  of 
Ducio,  and  in 'doubt  as  to  what  should  have  made  him  a  truant  to 
the  tryst,  she  finally  determined  to  ascertain,  if  possible,  the  cause 
of  his  absence.  No  better  mode  suggesting  itself  than  a  resort  to 
the  disguise  which  she  had  employed  on  a  former  occasion,  she 
leisurely  donned  her  male  attire,  hoping  that  ere  her  toilet  would 
be  completed,  Ducio  might  make  his  appearance.  When  she  finally 
sallied  forth  it  was  in  time  to  reach  the  plaza  as  the  fight  between 
the  raiders  and  the  entrapped  patrol  was  at  its  height.  A  strong 
presentiment  led  her  to  believe  that  the  truant  Ducio  was  in  some  way 
mixed  up  in  the  affair,  and  the  magnetism  of  the  idea  drew  her  closer 
and  closer  to  Linda's  gate.  The  compromising  position  in  which 
she  had  discovered  him  on  the  very  night  before,  in  the  apartment 
of  the  pretty  daughter  of  the  jailer,  might  have  had  something  to 
do  with  her  suspicion  that  Ducio  was  again  haunting  the  same 
locality.  At  all  events  Josefa  found  herself  close  to  the  wall  door 
as  the  combat  ceased,  and  was  very  little  surprised  when,  of  three 
voices  heard  near  the  gate,  she  recognized  one  as  belonging  to  him 
whom  she  was  seeking. 

"What  will  this  end  in?"  said  one  voice. 

"The  town  will  surely  find  out  that  something  is  wrong,  and 
the  news  will  reach  the  officers  on  duty,"  said  another  voice. 

"Lieutenant,  this  does  not  look  much  like  the  well-appointed 
military  government  of  which  you  were  boasting  a  while  ago."  This 
last  was  Ducio's  voice. 

"Keep  silent!"  ordered  the  guard,  who  had  charge  of  them. 

Josefa  edged  up  close  to  them,  and  when  the  guard  lighted  a 
cigarette  she  plainly  saw  the  features  of  Ducio. 

A.  whispered  inquiry  made  her  presence  known  to  the  latter,  and 
at  the  same  time  drew  from  him  enough  to  apprise  her  of  the 
situation. 

She  rapidly  conceived  and  boldly  carried  out  the  ruse  which,  as 
already  related,  set  Ducio  free.  The  latter^s  first  idea  was  revenge 
for  his  capture.  He  prevailed  upon  his  liberator  to  allow  him  to 
accompany  her  home,  before  he  hurried  to  alarm  the  garrison. 

"Have  you  arranged  for  our  departure?"  she  asked. 

"Tomorrow,  or  at  furthest,  Tuesday,  if  nothing  will  prevent." 

"Then  come  early  tomorrow  and  we  will  discuss  those  plans 
YMI  -poke  of.  There  must  be  an  understanding,  you  know." 

"Ivxpect   me   early.      I   will   be  in   a  better   mood   tomorrow   to 


388  GUY  EAYMOND. 

thank  you  for  this  night's  work.     Good  night,  Josefa." 

"Adios — until  tomorrow." 

Ducio  hurried  away  and  made  all  haste  to  apprise  the  officer  of 
the  day  of  the  rebel  invasion  of  the  place.  To  do  this  he  was 
compelled  to  seek  that  officer  either  at  the  Alamo,  or  at  the  camp 
on  the  small  peninsula  just  below  the  mill  ford.  At  both  of  these 
places  was  stationed  a  distinct  section  of  the  guard,  with  prescribed 
limits  of  duty  similar  to  the  section  which  had  been  captured  at 
headquarters.  Fearful  of  recapture,  he  avoided  the  Main  street 
route,  and  turned  his  steps  to  the  Alamo. 

"Pull  away,  right  oar!  There — now  together — so.  Attend  to 
your  muffle,  Mr.  Jones;  your  oar  is  striking  the  bare  rowlock.  Euiz, 
you  will  have  to  say  when  we  reach  those  points  you  spoke  of." 

"All  right,  Mr.  Karnes.  There  will  be  two  places  to  bother  us — 
the  mill  above  the  ford  and  the  getting  around  that  peninsula,  where 
a  section  of  the  guard  is  camped." 

"I  wish  we  could  return  the  way  we  came." 

"That  the  current  won't  allow;  while  down  stream  it  will  assist 
us  to  escape,"  explained  Euiz.  "We  left  in  good  time,"  continued 
Manuel,  "for  the  hounds  are  upon  our  trail.  Do  you  hear  those 
yells?  That  French  scoundrel  has  put  in  his  work." 

"There  is  a  racket  about  something,  and  I  suppose  it's  us  they 
are  yelling  about." 

"The  boat  will  mystify  them,"  suggested  Euiz. 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Guy,  as  the  boat  turned  a  sharp 
bend  and  brought  to  view  a  light  over  the  river.  "If  I  mistake  not, 
that  is  held  from  the  Main  street  bridge  to  disclose  our  presence." 

"I  believe  Senor  Eaymond  is  right,"  said  Euiz,  "and  a  fellow 
is  holding  the  torch." 

"It  will  never  do  to  run  into  that  light,"  said  Karnes.  "Slow 
up,  men!" 

The  boat  slackened  her  pace.  The  tiller  brought  her  under  the 
deep  shadows  of  a  line  of  willows  which  extended  along  the  left 
bank  to  within  a  hundred  yards  or  so  from  the  bridge. 

"Pull  slow  and  steady,"  was  the  next  command. 

"Allow  me  to  suggest  something,"  said  Guy. 

"That's  what  I'd  like,"  replied  Karnes. 

"It  is  this.  Pull  easily  until  Euiz  here  thinks  we  are  in  rifle 
distance.  Then  I  will  guarantee  to  make  that  fellow  drop,  and 
perhaps  drop  that  light  into  the  river." 

"If  you  feel  confidence  enough  in  your  marksmanship,  it  is  a 


GUT  RAYMOND.  389 

bargain;  but  Mr.  Raymond,  there  are  two  or  three  of  the  finest  shots 
in  Texas  in  this  boat/' 

"I  will  give  way  to  any  one,  Mr.  Karnes,  for  the  work,  but  not 
in  point  of  marksmanship.  I  had  no  equal  among  the  Lipans." 

"The  horse  thievin'  critters,"  put  in  Nathan. 

"I  vote  that  Mr.  Raymond  be  the  one  to  plug  that  son  of  - 
Mexico/'  said  Hamilton. 

"Well,  sir,  he  shall  have  the  honor,  as  he  spoke  of  it  first,"  said 
the  commander.  "The  only  thing  to  consider  is:  will  it  be  the 
best  to  shoot  him,  and  show  our  position?" 

"We  have  no  time  to  lose,"  said  Ruiz.  "We  can  draw  up  close 
to  the  bank,  and  they  will  never  be  the  wiser  of  our  position.  If 
the  torch  is  put  out  we  can  pass  under  the  bridge  before  they  can 
renew  it,  if  indeed  anyone  will  dare  to  hold  another  torch,  to  be 
shot  at." 

"Your  argument  is  good,"  said  the  commander. 

"Mr.  Raymond,  get  ready  for  the  work.  Mr.  Ruiz  will  inform 
you  about  the  distance,  as  he  is  familiar  with  these  parts." 

The  boat  had  been  slowly  feeling  its  way  under  the  branches  of 
the  willows  and  had  probably  reached  the  proper  distance,  for  Karnes 
had  scarcely  finished  speaking  when  Ruiz  said  to  Guy: 

"Are  you  well  loaded?" 

"Good  for  one  hundred   and  fifty  yards,"  replied   Guy. 

"Get  ready,  then." 

"I'll  bring  her  closer  to  the  bank,"  said  Karnes,  sweeping  the 
water  astern  with  his  broad  paddle.  "Then  Perry,  get  hold  of  that 
willow  branch  and  let  her  swing  with  the  current  to  give  Mr.  Ray- 
mond a  steady  aim,  for  he's  got  a  hard  shot  to  make." 

"No  matter  about  that,"  said  Guy,  bringing  to  his  shoulder  the 
rifl.e  that  had  made  many  a  deer  and  buffalo  drop,  up  on  the  San 
Saba.  A  hanging  branch  interfered  for  a  moment.  Silence  prevailed 
while  the  marksman  awaited  his  opportunity.  All  eyes  were  turned 
upon  the  light,  which  moved  a  little  up  and  down  with  the  unsteady 
hands  of  the  holder,  whose  face  was  at  the  moment  visible  as  he 
leaned  upon  the  rail,  apparently  watching  the  river. 

The  report  of  Guy's  rifle,  sharp  and  clear,  was  followed  instantly 
by  the  falling  of  the  torch  into  the  swift  current  under  the  bridge. 

"Pull  away  with  a  will!"  instantly  came  from  the  commander's 
lips.  "All  keep  silent !" 

The  boat  was  brought  about  and  headed  down  stream.  Under 
the  vigorous  strokes  of  the  rowers  the  craft  fairly  leaped  through 


390  GUY  RAYMOND. 

the  water,  and  in  another  moment  had  swiftly  shot  under  and  past 
the  bridge.  A  confusion  of  voices  overhead,  the  tramp  of  feet,  a 
few  discharges  of  firearms,  the  latter  perhaps  in  random  reply  to 
Guy's  telling  shot,  were  evidences  that  the  mystified  enemy  was  on 
the  alert,  but  had  failed  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  boat,  and  if  any 
sounds,  unavoidably  produced  in  its  management,  had  greeted  hostile 
ears,  they  but  served  to  further  confuse  and  mystify  them.  The 
rapidity  of  the  current  soon  brought  the  boat  well  into  the  pool  above 
the  dam,  where  stood  the  old  mill,  and  where  the  foot-bridge  crossed 
just  below  it,  spanning  the  swift  and  narrow  race,  and  overlooking 
the  little  island  whose  cress-covered  surface  was  half  submerged  by 
the  escaping  waters  pouring  through  the  fissures  in  the  low  rock 
wall.  It  was  here  that  Guy  was  arrested,  while  engaged  in  the  diver- 
sion of  throwing  Roll  a  into  the  water.  Upon  this  foot-bridge  Ruiz 
had  informed  Karnes  a  sentinel  would  be  encountered,  and  as  it 
would  be  necessary  to  lift  the  boat  from  the  water  and  to  carry  it 
over  the  dam,  the  post  would  have  to  be  captured,  or  the  risk  of 
detection  incurred,  in  which  latter  event  an  alarm  would  be  communi- 
cated to  the  guard  on  the  peninsula  a  few  hundred  yards  below.  It 
having  been  decided  to  take  the  smaller  risk,  the  boat  was  landed 
at  the  eastern  end  of  the  low  wall,  composing  the  dam  where  it 
joined  the  bank.  Ruiz  volunteered  to  take  four  men,  with  whom 
he  proposed  to  accomplish  the  capture  of  the  sentinel,  who  was  sup- 
posed to  be  posted  at  the  usual  place  on  the  bridge  near  the  mill. 

Hamilton,  Jones,  Roach  and  the  Mexican  guide,  having  beer, 
assigned  to  the  duty  of  acting  with  Ruiz,  the  latter  formed  them 
in  line  with  fixed  bayonets.  After  imparting  to  them  the  proposed 
mode  of  procedure,  he  enjoined  perfect  silence,  and  marched  them 
by  twos  to  the  bridge.  Once  upon  the  boards  they  imitated  the 
regular  tramp  of  the  Mexican  patrol.  As  they  neared  the  mill  the 
sentinel's  clear  challenge  was  heard : 

"Quienes?" 

The  men  were  promptly  halted  and  Ruiz  replied  that  he  was 
sergeant  of  a  portion  of  the  patrol  in  search  of  some  parties  w 
were  disturbing  the  town. 

"Advance,  sergeant,  and  give  the  countersign." 

"Monterey,"  returned  the  sham  sergeant. 

The  unsuspecting  sentinel  made  room  for  the  passage  of  the 
supposed  patrol,  who  were  put  in  motion  when  the.  former  affirmed 
tin;  correctness  of  tho  pass-word.  When  they  arrived  to  within 
almost  reach  of  (lie  scniind,  the  latter,  in  spite  of  the  assent  which 
he  had  given  to  their  purpose  to  pass,  gave  a  yell  of  alarm  and  dis- 


GUY  RAYMOND.  391 

charged  his  piece.  Tn  response,  Nathan,  who  was  nearest  to  him, 
clubbed  him  with  his  musket,  felling  him  f(>  (he  |)ri,|uv  floor,  whence 
he  rolled  into  the  river.  Rui/  at  once  comprehended  the  danger 
of  their  discovery  by  a  detachment  which  the  report  of  (he  gun 
would  inevitably  bring  down  upon  them  from  the  peninsula  A 
retreat  to  the  boat  could  not  be  made  without  encountering  the 
expected  contingent.  All  this  flashed  through  his  mind,  and  in  an 
instant  he  formed  his  decision. 

"Compadre!"  he  said  to  the  Mexican  guide.  "Swap  coats  with 
me.  T  wish  to  get  rid  of  these  sergeant's  stripes." 

The  exchange  of  uniforms  was  quickly  made. 

"Now/7  continued  Ruiz,  addressing  the  men,  "Go  right  back  to 
where  the  other  end  of  the  bridge  touches  the  island,  and  get  under 
it  near  the  steps.  Remain  there  as  still  as  death,  until  we  can  know 
what  effect  that  shot  will  have  on  the  guard  over  there.  I  will  stay 
here  raid  play  sentinel.  Quick!  Men,  I  can  hear  the  storm  coming." 

The  men  obeyed  the  order  promptly,  and  were  the  next  moment 
stowed  away  beneath  the  steps  which  rose  from  the  little  island  to 
the  level  of  the  foot-bridge. 

Ruiz  walked  his  post. 

He  was  not  deceived  as  lo  the  character  of  noises  he  heard  when 
he  urged  his  little  squad  to  make  haste  to  con  real' themselves.  They 
were  the  premonitions  of  a  danger  that  he  must  somehow  averl. 

Before  he  had  time  to  mature  a  plan  ihe  tramp  of  men  at  a 
run  was  heard  upon  the  bridge  connecting  Ihe  further  hank  with 
the  island.  An  instant  more  and  they  were  upon  him.  His  chal- 
lenge halted  them. 

Ruiz  took  care  to  mimic  the  voice  of  the  sentinel  whom  they 
had  put  hors  du  combat. 

The  party  announced  its  character,  and  the  officer  in  charge 
demanded  the  cause  of  the  tiring. 

The  bogus  sentinel  replied: 

"Some  men  fried  io  force  a  passage  over  the  bridge.  When  I 
fired  they  ran." 

"Citizens  or  soldiers?" 

"I  could  not  tell  in  this  darkness,  but  I  could  see  one  who  came 
nearest  to  me  was  very  tall,  and  sergeant,  I  suspect  that  they  were 
rehols,  for  when  I  came  on  post,  a  Frenchman  met  the  relief  and 
asked  for  direction  to  the  General's,  saying  that  a  force  of  rebels 
had  taken  the  office  at  headquarters,  and  had  captured  the  carcel  and 
turned  loose  the  prisoners." 

"Which  way  did  these  fellows  run  who  tried  to  pass  here?" 


392  GUY  EAYMOND. 

"Back  towards  the  carcel." 

"Then  I'll  follow  them.     Come,  men,  to  the  carcel !" 

The  squad  took  the  double-quick  step  and  were  soon  out  of 
hearing. 

Euiz  called  up  his  men. 

"To  the  boat!     No  time  to  lose  now!" 

The  party  made  all  haste  to  where  Karnes  was  preparing  the 
boat  for  transportation  overland  for  a  distance  of  forty  or  fifty 
yards,  across  the  neck  of  the  peninsula.  This  work  was  performed 
by  the  entire  party,  who,  four  on  each  side,  lifted  their  brave  little 
craft,  and  in  a  few  minutes  had  the  satisfaction  to  see  it  safely 
launched  below  the  point  they  had  most  dreaded  to  pass. 

At  the  command  of  Karnes  all  of  the  men,  including  the  cap- 
tured sentinel,  were  soon  in  their  places  ready  to  shove  off,  except 
Euiz  and  Guy,  who  still  lingered. 

The  latter,  with  one  foot  upon  the  bow,  seemed  ready  to  enter, 
but  Euiz  detained  him. 

"You  must  come  with  us,"  Guy  was  saying. 

"No,  Senor  Eaymond.  I  have  a  duty  yet  unperformed,  and  it 
will  require  my  presence  in  town  a  few  more  hours  to  give  it  my 
attention.  If  I  have  good  luck  I  will  join  you  in  camp  tomorrow 

•  night.    These  papers  I  would  like  to  have  delivered  to  General  B -. 

You  will  be  prepared  to  give  him  much  information  in  regard  to 
the  garrison  here/' 

Saying  this,  Euiz  wrung  Guy's  hand  and  turned  abruptly  away 
into  the  darkness. 

As  soon  as  Guy  had  taken  his  place  aboard  Nathan  pushed  the  : 
boat  from  the  shore  and  once  more  it  was  headed  down  the  stream. 

Before   them   the   darkness   was   too   great   to    detect   the   sharp 
turns  of  the  river  and  cautious  rowing  and  a  rapid   current  were 
depended  upon  for  guidance,  rather  than  to  the  dexterity  of  Karnes 
and  his  broad  paddle.     Behind   them  the   score  of  lights   and   the  ; 
increasing  hub-bub  of  an  excited  garrison  was  soon  lost  to  eye  and  j 
ear. 

The  torturous  course  of  the  river  and  the  difficulties  of  navigation  | 
were  impediments  preventing  a  speedy  termination  of  the  boat's  I 
passage  to  the  destination  of  its  adventurous  crew.  The  gray  dawn  J 
was  visible  in  the  east,  when  Karnes  gave  the  order  to  haul  the  I 
craft  on  the  bank  preparatory  to  a  resort  to  camps,  by  way  of  the  ] 
Mission  of  Concepcion,  whose  venerable  walls  rose  darkly  above  the  I 
tree  tops,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant.  The  party  were  in  j 
high  spirits  on  account  of  the  success  of  the  expedition,  and  they  1 


GUY  EAYMOND.  393 

gave  full  vent  to  their  hilarity  as  they  struggled  along  over  ground  so 
suggestive  of  incidents  of  the  late  battle,  allusions  to  which  were 
indiscriminately  made  with  other  remarks  on  their  later  and  more 
thrilling  experience.  Nathan's  long  stride  kept  him  well  in  advance, 
necessitating  now  and  then  a  turn  and  halt,  to  guarantee  an  audience 
for  an  occasional  sally  or  a  rejoinder  to  some  half  comprehended 
thrust  from  Hamilton.  Every  act  and  word  of  the  backwoodsman 
was  eminently  characteristic,  and  the  comedy  of  shape  and  movement 
were  illy  disguised  beneath  the  hostile  uniform,  scant  and  ill  fitting, 
which  covered  his  own  slick  homespun.  At  each  turn  he  made,  the 
flashy  lace  of  the  Mexican  lieutenant's  coat,  which  depended  from 
his  left  arm,  shone  in  conspicuous  contrast  with  his  rough  attire. 

At  the  jacal,  in  the  rear  of  the  mission,  Locaria  still  presided, 
and  here,  awaiting  the  returning  party,  was  Mr.  Trigg,  anxious  to 
greet  the  boy  he  had  lost  on  the  banks  of  the  Salado, 

"Guy,  me  boy  I" 

"Mr.  Trigg!" 

The  two  indulged  in  a  hearty  embrace. 

Guy's  look  eloquently  conveyed  the  intelligence  of  the  strong 
desire  burning  within  him.  The  scene  on  the  Salado  on  that  eventful 
Sunday  morning  rose  vividly  before  him,  and  he  felt  the  full  weight 
of  the  impression  that,  in  his  presence,  were  lips  that  could  unfold 
what  to  him  had  been  so  long  a  sealed  uncertainty. 

Mr.  Trigg  comprehended  the  mute  appeal. 

"Wait  a  spell,  me  boy.  In  the  camp  beyond  I  will  have  ye  to 
myself,  and  I  will  tell  ye  the  whole  sad  story.  Meantime,  be  com- 
forted in  the  knowledge  that  the  girl  is  safe  and  happy  as  a  girl 
can  be,  who  only  hopes  she  will  see  her  dear  brother." 

Guy  pressed  the  hand  of  his  friend,  and  was  about  to  express 
thanks,  when  the  wail  of  a  woman  claimed  every  one's  attention. 

The  cry  came  from  Locaria,  as  she  threw  herself  upon  the 
Mexican  prisoner,  who  stood  with  bound  hands  in  the  rear,  unno- 
ticed except  by  Perry,  who  had  been  placed  over  him  as  guard. 

When  explanations  of  her  strange  conduct  followed,  the  captured 
sentinel  proved  to  be  her  brother,  who  had  been  impressed  into  the 
service  of  Mexico.  On  learning  this,  the  prisoner  was  promptly 
released,  his  sister  guaranteeing  that  he  would  henceforward  be  true 
to  Texas. 


394  GUY  EAYMOND. 


CHAPTEK  LIV. 

After  Guy  sufficiently  recovered  from  the  shock  which  the  story 
of  the  fate  of  his  family,  as  detailed  from  the  lips  of  his  Irish  friend, 
had  given  him,  he  began  to  turn  his  attention  to  the  situation  of 
affairs  among  the  forces  arrayed  against  the  city  he  had  just  left. 
The  small  expedition  which  had  penetrated  the  lines,  captured  the 
headquarters  of  the  enemy,  released  him  from  prison  and  extricated 
itself  by  a  bold  push  through  his  entire  position,  set  him  to  thinking 
of  the  feasibility  of  capturing  the  place  by  a  proper  utilization  of 
American  pluck.  Behind  him,  in  their  power,  remained  Beatrice, 
who  had  more  or  less  compromised  herself  by  aiding  in  his  escape. 
This  impression,  perhaps  the  master  influence  in  support  of  his  idea, 
gave  earnestness  to  his  manner  and  eloquence  to  his  tongue  when, 
in  seeking  headquarters  to  deliver  Ruiz's  commission  to  General 

B ,  he  urged  the  policy  of  an  immediate  attack  on  the  town. 

He  became  more  determined  than  ever  to  rouse  the  men  of  the 
several  commands  to  the  necessity  of  the  movement,  when,  on  the 
following  day,  he  received  news  of  the  arrest  of  both  Beatrice  and 
Linda.  The  latter  intelligence  was  brought  by  Euiz,  who  suddenly 
appeared  in  camp  on  Wednesday  morning,  having  successfully  passed 
the  lines  the  night  before.  The  mess  were  at  breakfast  when  Manuel 
arrived,  and  having  made  a  place  for  him  at  the  log  table,  they 
invited  him  to  impart  his  news  from  the  city. 

"Do  you  want  to  hear  it  all  ?" 

"All  \"  cried  several  voices. 

"Begin  where  you  left  us  at  the  boat,"  suggested  Jones. 

"Give  us  the  plain,  unvarnished,  Ruiz;  no  elephantine  embellish- 
ment's," said  Hamilton,  cutting  his  eye  at  Jones. 

"Well,"  said  Ruiz,  "after  leaving  you  all  at  the  boat,  I  boldly 
struck  out  for  the  Alameda,  to  see  if  my  cousin,  Trevino,  had  arrived 
safely  back  to  his  tent.  By  skirting  the  east  side  of  the  Alamo  ditch, 
I  did  not  meet  any  one,  and  found  Trevino  looking  as  fresh  and 
innocent  as  an  angel.  A  special  patrol  had  just  left  his  camp,  after 
poking  their  noses  into  everything  to  see  if  they  could  get  at  a 
sign  of  a  rebel  having  been  that  way.  After  a  short  stay,  I  went  to 
Main  street,  passing  over  the  bridge  where  you  made  that  fine  shot, 
Senor  Raymond.  A  company  of  infantry  was  just  passing  over  it 
at  the  time,  going,  I  suppose,  to  help  catch  the  rebel  force,  so  I  fell 
in  behind  them  and  passed  unchallenged  to  the  plaza.  Headquarters 


GUY  RAYMOND.  395 

was  like  a  beehive  into  which  you  had  poked  a  stick.  The  yard  was 
swarming  with  soldiers,  and  officers  were  hurrying  about.  I  imitated 
everybody  else  and  moved  about,  noticing  and  listening.  I  caught 
parts  of  the  talk  about  the  rebels,  who  had  come  and  disappeared  so 
suddenly,  and  was  much  amused.  Some  thought  spirits  had  done 
the  work  as  men  in  the  flesh  could  not  have  disappeared.  My  name 
was  mentioned  several  times  as  having  led  the  parly.  ?md  I  found 
that  this  came  from  the  lieutenant  of  the  staff,  the  loss  of  whose 
uniform  seemed  to  be  generally  known.  Having  heard  it  mentioned 
that  Linda  and  the  Senorita  Navarro  had  been  aiders  in  the  escape 
of  the  prisoners  at  the  carcel,  I  went  to  Bonito  to  try  to  hear  from 
the  ladies.  Bonito  was  fussing  about,  directing  two  mozos,  whom 
he  had  employed  to  set  to  rights  the  desecrated  apartment  of  his 
daughter.  The  old  fellow  was  viewing  the  wreck  of  his  inner  door, 
one  panel  of  which  he  was  holding  up  to  its  place  in  an  aimless 
attempt  to  make  it  stay  there. 

"  'No  mas  mala  fortuna  !'  he  was  saying  to  himself. 

"With  my  cap  pulled  down  over  my  face,  I  disguised  my  voice 
and  spoke  to  him: 

"  'Senor,  are  you  the  jailer?' 

"  'I  am,  amigo,  but  not  for  long.  I  am  going  to  quit.  A  jailer 
has  only  misfortunes.  You  see,  amigo — 

<e  (I  .have  not  time,  Mr.  Jailer,  fo  hear  your  troubles.  T  have 
ord€Ts  to  arrest  the  Senorita  Navarro.  She  was  here  tonight.' 

"  cEs  verdad,  but  she  is  not  here  now.  Is  this  a  fit  place  for 
women — for  ladies?  This  blood,  these  broken  doors — this — 

"  Tou  forget,  Mr.  Jailer.  I'm  on  business.  Where  is  the 
senorita  ?' 

"'Quien  sabe.  At  home,  no  doubt.  Linda,  poor  child,  is  with 
her.  Arrest  her!  Must  the  government  make  war  on  women?  She 
is  as  innocent  as  Linda  of  crime,  and  arrests  are  made  for  crimes, 
Senor  Sergeant.  Better  arrest  the  devils  who  have  turned  my  house 
topsy  turvey  and  let  out  my  prisoners/ 

e { 'Prisoners  ?     Who  were  they  ?' 

'"You  are  getting  over  your  hurry,  sergeant.  Yon  could  not 
spare  a  moment  to  hear  of  my  misfortune;  but  these  prisoners  were 
brave  fellows — half  devils,  half  men — yet  gentle  and  real  caballeros. 
It  was  nothing  for  them  to  pass  through  the  bars  of  the  cell,  or 
perhaps  the  keyyhole,  and  yet  their  flesh  and  blood  were  as  yours 
and  mine.  You  should  see  him  fight — el  pajarro — as  I  called  him. 
He  cut  and  slashed  the  mob  with  my  old  cutlass  as  if  he  were  a 
man  o'  war's  boarder  of  twenty  years'  service.  He  sent  me  below 


396  GUY  RAYMOND. 

as  if  I  had  been — the  cook — or  steward — or  

"  'What  about  the  other  prisoner  ?' 

"  'Oh !  The  sleeper — Ruiz — Manuel  Ruiz — he  is  a  good  fellow, 
but  he  got  into  a  habit  of  sleeping  in  the  cell,  until  he  dreamed 
himself  out  of  it — and  I  hear  he  has  been  getting  revenge  on  his 
enemies  by  leading  a  number  of  rebels  into  town." 

"I  left  Bonito  still  aimlessly  working  at  his  broken  door,  satisfied 
that  the  ladies  had  not  been  arrested,  and  sought  the  repose  I  needed. 
The  next  day  I  kept  close  at  my  cousin's,  sending  him  out  to  get 
information.  In  the  afternoon  Trevino  returned  and  informed  me 
that  the  Senorita  Navarro  and  Linda,  the  jailer's  daughter,  had 
been  placed  under  arrest  for  assisting  prisoners  to  escape.  After 
dark  I  went  to  the  priest's  house  to  see  Jose  about  an  affair  between 
us.  He  was  at  home,  as  was  also  Father  Ignacio.  From  the  priest 
I  learned  that  his  niece,  Josefa  de  la  Torre,  had  left  the  city  in 
company  with  the  fellow  Ducio  Halfen.  She  had  gone  against  the 
wishes  of  her  mother  and  uncle,  both  of  whom  were  much  troubled 
at  the  event.  Having  nothing  further  to  detain  me  in  town,  I  suc- 
ceeded in  passing  the  lines  last  night,  and  here  I  am." 

The  news  brought  by  Ruiz  had  a  marked  effect  npon  Guy  Ray- 
mond. He  laid  before  Mr.  Trigg  a  plan  upon  which  to  make  a  move 
for  the  capture  of  the  town. 

"It  is  a  bold  one,  me  boy,"  he  said.     "But  pluck  will  do  it." 

"That's  my  idea,  Mr.  Trigg,  and  Ruiz  thinks  it  will'  be  easy 
of  accomplishment  under  the  right  leaders." 

"There's  many  of  the  officers  here  as  is  not  fit  to  lead.  The 
meeting  they  had  last  night  ended  in  the  postponement  of  an  attack, 
and  it  is  reported  now  that  orders  will  be  coming  soon  to  raise  the 
seige  and  go  home." 

"If  such  orders  are  issued  it  will  be  a  sorry  day  for  some  of  the 
officers." 

"They  say  it's  all  because  one  of  the  guides  is  absent." 

"A  mere  excuse.  I  can  get  a  dozen  guides  to  fill  the  absent 
one's  place." 

"Our  squad's  in  favor  of  going,  and  they're  talkin'  the  men  of 
the  other  companies  into  it.  I'm  tired  of  this  do-nothing  business, 
which  is  weakening  us  every  day." 

"The  victory  at  Concepcion  should  have  been  followed  by  the 
capture  of  San  Antonio.  Father  Ignacio  almost  admitted  to  me 
that  it  could  have  been  done,  and  said  the  Mexicans  dreaded  an 
assault." 

"Is  he  the  praste  that  came  to  see  me  after  the  fight?" 


GUY  EAYMOND.  397 

"He  is  the  same." 

"I  remember  he  couldn't  get  me  name  right,  and  although  I  told 
him  the  five  letters,  he  pronounced  it  as  long  as  if  it  had  twenty. 
They  are  not  as  sharp  as  our  Irish  prastes,  who  take  to  all  lan- 
guages, even  if  they  can't  spake  them.  This  Father  Ignagio  is  a 
very  dacent  man  and  has  been  kind  to  ye,  which  will  cover  up  a 
deal  of  short-comings." 

The  next  morning  the  whole  camp  was  astir  with  excitement. 

Around  General  B '&  tent  a  crowd  was  assembled,  talking  over 

the  situation.  Among  the  officers  generally  the  idea  of  an  assault 
on  the  town  was  unpopular,  but  the  feeling  among  the  troops  showed 
the  effect  of  the  agitation  inaugurated  by  Guy  and  the  squad  which 
had  so  recently  shown  what  a  few  determined  men  may  accomplish. 
A  little  removed  from  the  crowd  was  another  gathering  of  men, 
chiefly  private  soldiers,  surrounding  the  well-known  figure  of  a 
popular  officer.  The  la  i !  or  was  listening  to  arguments  in  favor  of 
an  immediate  attack,  to  all  of  which  he  assented.  To  every  such 
indication  of  his  approval,  a  cheer  would  go  up  from  the  men.  The 
favorable  temperament  of  the  rank  and  file,  whetted  by  the  enthu- 
siasm of  the  moment,  suggested  to  Guy  Raymond  a  plan  to  make 
it  bear  good  fruit.  Acting  upon  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  he 
stepped  close  to  the  officer's  ear  and  suggested  that  he  step  to  one 
side  and  call  out  loudly  for  volunteers  to  follow  him  into  town.  The 
suggestion  was  most  opportune,  for  the  officer,  who  was  Colonel  Ben 
Milam,  took  at  once  a  central  position  between  the  two  assemblages, 
and  cried  out  the  now  historic  words: 

"Who  will  go  with  old  Ben  Milam  into  San  Antonio?" 

The  air  was  immediately  rent  with  shouts  of  approval,  and  before 
many  minutes  three  hundred  volunteers  were  in  line,  ready  to  follow 
Milam  to  victory.  During  the  enthusiasm  of  the  moment  Colonel 
Milam  introduced  Lieutenant  V—  -  of  the  Mexican  army,  who  had 
deserted  from  the  enemy  and  reported  the  city  ripe  for  capture.  This 
put  more  confidence  into  some  of  those  who  had  been  only  half 
hearted  in  the  enterprise.  When  the  lieutenant  was  introduced,  to 
the  surprise  of  Euiz,  he  identified  him  as  the  officer  of  the  staff 
whom  he  had  forced  to  part  with  his  coat  on  the  night  of  the  raid. 
The  next  morning  the  5th  of  December  was  fixed  for  the  movement, 
and  the  camp  was  busy  with  preparation. 

The  whole  of  our  mess  had  volunteered.  Their  number  was  now 
augmented  by  Guy  and  the  brother  of  Locaria,  the  latter  having 
beggesd  the  mess  to  adopt  him. 

The  members  were  just  through  supper,  and  had  been  discuss- 

26 


398  GUY  KAYMOND. 

ing  the  organization  of  the  two  attacking  divisions,  under  Colonels 
Milam  and  Johnson,  which  had  been  effected  that  evening  at  a  meet- 
ing held  at  the  old  mill.  Jones  was  busy  cooking  rations  for  three 
days,  while  the  others  were  seated  or  standing  watching  him,  or 
conversing  of  the  event  of  the  morrow. 

Mr.  Trigg  had  lighted  his  pipe  and  was  giving  some  instructions 
to  Guy,  relative  to  the  latter's  future,  in  case  the  casualities  of  the 
coming  conflict  should  include  him  among  the  victims. 

"You  see,  I  might  be  killed;  and  then  there's  no  one  but  ye  to 
look  after  Stella.  There'll  be  plenty  for  both  o'  ye,  and  if  anything 
comes  of  the  paper  I  was  telling  about,  ye  might  be  rich  enough." 

"I  trust  we  both  will  get  through  safe,  Mr.  Trigg;  but  why  is  it 
necessary  for  you  to  go?  Let  the  young  men  do  this/' 

"I  wouldn't  be  caught  loitering,  me  boy.  I  volunteered,  and 
there's  an  end  of  it." 

"What  about  the  possession  of  this  paper?  If  I  had  only  known 
that  this  Creole  was  the  thief,  I  could  have  gotten  Ruiz  to  attend  to 
him.  You  say  the  paper  explains  everything?" 

"The  two  together.  The  one  stole  at  the  mission  is  the  draft 
of  an  island  and  has  marks  upon  it  which  the  other  paper  explains. 
The  other  paper  was  in  a  verse  like,  and  was  left  in  the  charge  of  a 
Portugese  who's  in  San  Antonio,  or  was  there  not  a  great  while 
back." 

"A  Portugese — a  Portugese,"  thought  Guy..  "Can  it  be  Bonito? 
It  must  be  Bonito.  Hidden  treasure!  Can  it  be  that  the  treasure 
the  paper  will  disclose  is  the  same  that  he  has  hid  in  the  vault! 

Guy  mused  a  while,  then  asked : 

"Could  this  island  treasure  have  been  moved  recently,  or  at 
without  the  paper  and  its  key?" 

"No;   tfye  old   gunner   said   it  was   not   possible   to   discover 
without  the  sheerest  chance." 

•  At  this  moment  Ruiz  came  up  in  company  with  the  deserter  f  i 
the  Mexicans. 

"Allow  me  to  introduce  Lieutenant  V ,  late  of  the  Mexi< 

army,"  he  said,  in  Spanish  first,  and  afterwards  in  English. 

Hamilton,  seeing  his  opportunity,  said: 

"Hello,  Nathan !     What  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?" 

"'Bout  what?" 

"This  officer  wants  his  pretty  coat.     He  is  the  gentleman 
gagged  and  left  minus  his  gold  lace." 

"He  ain't  got  no  claim  to  that  'ar  coat;  besides,  ef  he's  desei 
he  can't  wear  it." 


GUY  EAYMOND.  399 

"Personal  apparel  in  actual  use  is  not  a  legitimate  prize  in  civi- 
lized warfare,  Mr.  Roach,"  contended  Hamilton. 

"You  keep  your  dictionary  rubbish,  Mr.   Hamilton,  and  I'll  keep 

the  coat.    See  here,  boss,"  he  continued,  addressing  Lieutenant  V . 

"You'll  have  to  fight  for  that  coat,  for  I'm  goin'  to  take  it  to  the 
Sabine,  and  the  fust  tinue  I  go  to  Orleans  I'm  goin'  to  trade  it  to  an 
organ  grinder  for  his  monkey  to  wear." 

Ruiz  interpreted  this  to  the  lieutenant  as  an  inquiry  to  ascertain 
if  he  wanted  his  coat. 

In  reply  he  begged  its  present  possessor  to  keep  it  as  he  had  no 
further  use  for  it.  Hamilton  having  insisted  that  this  answer  meant 
just  the  reverse,  Nathan  reasserted  his  intention  to  hold  fast  to 
his  prize. 

There  were  few  who  slept  in  the  Texan  camp  on  the  night  suc- 
ceeding the  determination  of  the  volunteers  to  follow  the  lead  of 
Milam  into  the  hostile  city.  The  old  mill  was  the  scene  of  a  hasty 
organization,  which  resulted  in  the  formation  of  two  divisions;  one 
to  be  under  the  i  in  mediate  command  of  Milam,  the  other  with  Frank 
W.  Johnson  as  its  leader.  With  the  latter  division  Karnes  and  our 
mess  were  assigned  to  duty.  As  the  night  wore  on  the  sounds  of 
preparation  continued  and  there  were  few  laggards  when  the  word 
went  round  from  camp  fire  to  camp  fire  to  proceed  to  the  rendezvous. 
The  men  fell  into  position  under  the  supervision  of  their  leaders,  and 
there  was  a  marked  absence  of  levity  as  greetings  and  words  were 
exchanged  with  each  new  arrival.  The  coming  event,  while  it  filled 
the  minds  and  shaped  the  remarks  which  voiced  the  sentiments  of 
comradeship,  promised  to  be  a  collision  fraught  with  danger  and 
prophetic  of  defeat,  to  be  averted  only  by  a  sublime  heroism  which 
inspired  the  movement. 

The  attack  was  deemed  to  be  ill  advised  by  the  highest  authority 
of  the  investing  forces,  and  was  therefore  to  be  made  in  violation 
of  the  rules  of  scientific  warfare.  Ti  was  a  movement  of  the  men 
and  a  following  of  the  officers.  The  rank  and  file  developed  a  nearer 
tie — the  tie  of  mutual  dependence  in  the  individual  courage  which 
augured  victory  against  the  dicta  of  principles. 

Nathan  Roach  was  a  typical  volunteer. 

He  would  not  waste  time  in  a  debate  as  to  the  advisability  of 
attacking  an  overwhelming  force  of  Indians  or  Mexicans  where  there 
was  an  apparent  necessity  for  fighting. 

His  prompt  decision  would  be  to  fight,  and  if  defeat  succeeded, 
to  consider  the  causes  at  his  leisure.  With  Nathan  it  was  the 


400  GUY  RAYMOND. 

animal;  with  Hamilton  it  was  pride  which  overbalanced  the  dread 
of  consequences. 

Perry,  yet  under  tutelage,  was  an  apt  pupil  who  would  go  down 
to  his  death  under  orders. 

So,  all  through,  up  or  down  the  list  of  the  three  hundred, 
heroism  was  the  development  of  characteristic  energies  having  their 
inceptions  in  higher  or  lower  promptings.  With  Guy  Raymond  cour- 
age was  a  normal  concomitant  of  a  cultured  mind,  trained  to  a 
high  conception  of  duty  and  imbued  with  a  hereditary  instinct  of 
honor.  His  participation  in  the  attack  would  not  wholly  parallel  in 
motives  with  that  of  any  who  would  follow  Milam  or  Johnson.  He 
was  impatient  with  the  semi-barbarism  of  Mexican  supremacy  and 
regarded  its  overthrow  in  Texas  as  a  part  of  the  mission  of  his 
race.  Therefore,  he  was  not  actuated  by  prospective  booty,  or  by 
&ny  of  the  material  gains  of  conquest.  But  the  moral  side  of  the 
advantages  of  victory  was,  for  the  time,  but  a  secondary  considera- 
tion with  the  lover  of  the  fair  Beatrice  Navarre.  His  arder  to  act 
at  once,  in  her  behalf,  was  no  small  part  of  the  moral  force  that 
matured  the  spirit  to  attack.  It  was  then  not  strange  that  among 
the  restless  camp,  his  mind  was  the  most  active,  his  hopes  the 
most  earnest,  and  his  resolution  the  most  determined. 

The  news  brought  by  Ruiz  regarding  the  arrest  of  Beatrice  and 

Linda  was  confirmed  by  the  deserter  Lieutenant  V ,  who  also 

advanced  the  comforting  suggestion  that  an  attack  on  the  city  would 
divert  the  attention  of  the  authorities  from  the  prosecution  of  the 
prisoners.  Guy,  in  his  reflections,  thought  not  of  defeat,  but  of 
his  purpose.  He  would  fight  his  way  to  the  side  of  her  whom  lie 
loved,  if  it  were  only  to  lay  his  life  down  at  her  feet  in  fruitless 
effort. 

It  was  not  yet  day  when  the  command  to  move  was  given.  The 
starlit  night  had  given  way  to  damp  and  fog — a  curtain  of  mist 
hung  around  every  object  and  concealed  forms  but  a  few  feet  distant. 
The  courses  of  the  two  divisions  were  to  be  divergent.  Johnson's 
was  to  enter  the  city  at  the  head  of  Soledad  street  with  the  Veremendi 
house  as  its  objective  point,  while  Milam's  was  to  march  down 
Acequia  street  and  occupy  the  residence  of  Senor  Garza.  Under 
direction  of  experienced  guides  each  column  moved  along  its 
appointed  course  in  single  file,  the  low  hum  of  conversation  dying 
away  to  silence  as  the  light  of  dawn  struggled  through  the  veil  of 
mist  and  disclosed  the  straggling  outskirts  of  the  town.  The  picket 
had  been  eluded  by  a  detour  to  the  right,  the  too  confident  outpost 
having  become  careless  from  the  past  inactivity  of  the  besiegers. 


GUY  EAYMOND.  401 

Johnson  threw  his  men  into  platoon  front,  when  considerable  progress 
had  been  made  down  the  street,  and  it  was  only  when  in  view  of 
the  Veremendi  house  that  an  intimation  of  their  discovery  was 
given  by  the  discharge  of  his  musket  by  a  sentinel.  Deaf  Smith, 
the  chief  guide  of  the  division,  returned  the  fire,  wounding  the 
retreating  soldier.  This  firing  was  the  signal  for  the  general  alarm 
of  the  garrison.  Promiscuous  firing  began  from  several  points,  all 
of  which  was  more  or  less  harmless  until  the  enemy  more  definitely 
located  the  Texans.  The  latter  turned  their  attention  to  securing 
cover  and  opening  communication  between  the  two  columns  of  attack, 
which  resulted  in  the  occupation  of  the  Veremendi  and  Garza  houses. 
Johnson  ordered  Karnes  to  select  a -squad  of  men  and  proceed  to 
pick  loopholes  in  the  walls,  wherever  practicable,  and  to  open  a 
passage  to  the  roof  of  the  building,  for  the  purpose  of  driving  the 
enemy  from  the  tops  of  the  adjacent  houses.  Karnes  marshalled  the 
members  of  his  mess  for  the  purpose,  and  they  were  soon  at  work 
with  a  will.  Milam's  division  was  similarly  engaged  a  short  block 
away,  and  thus  the  first  day  passed.  The  next  day  was  spent  in 
skirmish  firing  from  the  tops  of  buildings,  through  holes  cut  in  the 
parapets,  while  the  force  under  Milam  succeeded  in  extending  the 
line  about  fifty  yards  to  the  westward,  by  occupying  a  house  in 
advance  of  Garza's.  The  morning  of  the  third  day,  the  seventh  of 
December,  found  the  assailants  in  strong  position,  but  fatigued  from 
ceaseless  activity.  The  object  was  to  gain  possession  of  the  houses 
fronting  the  north  side  of  Main  plaza,  and  about  noon  Karnes  vol- 
unteered to  effect  an  entrance  into  the  only  intervening  building, 
which  stood  alone  across  the  street  and  some  yards  further  down. 
For  this  work  he  selected  the  men  who  had  accompanied  him  on 
the  late  raid,  with  Mr.  Trigg  and  Guy  as  recruits.  Armed  with  a 
crowbar,  Karnes  advanced  at  the  head  of  his  party.  A  fusilade 
greeted  them  from  the  wall,  while  a  battery  of  the  enemy  sent  a 
storm  of  shot  up  the  narrow  street.  Two  of  the  daring  party  were 
cut  clown,  while  their  leader  was  dealing  fierce  blows  upon  the  oaken 
door.  The  stout  timber  creaked  and  groaned — then  yielded  and 
swung  upon  its  hinges.  The  men  rushed  in,  but  behind  them  lay 
the  prostrate  forms  of  Mr.  Trigg  and  Jones.  Guy  gave  one  glance, 
then  bounding  to  the  street,  he  lifted  his  friend  and  bore  him  into 
the  house.  Nathan  Eoach  followed  Guy's  example,  and  wrapping  his 
long  arms  about  the  body  of  the  East  Indian,  rescued  him  from  the 
leaden  storm  that  raged  around  him.  Over  the  door,  through  which 
an  entrance  had  been  effected  at  such  cost,  was  a  dim  sign,  upon 
which  was  written  "Nbtario."  A  company  of  about  thirty  men  fol- 


402  GUY  RAYMOND. 

lowed  Karnes  to  hold  possession.  With  these  came  Ruiz,  who  had 
helped  to  guide  Milam's  column.  He  saw  with  much  regret  Guy's 
grief  at  the  fall  of  his  old  friend,  and  suggested  that  the  wounded 
men  be  taken  into  the  next  room,  away  from  the  crowd,  to  have 
their  wounds  examined  and  dressed.  The  door  was  fastened,  but 
yielded  to  the  crowbar.  Inside  was  a  scene  which  startled  them. 
On  the  floor,  in  a  state  of  semi-decomposition,  was  a  human  form. 
Euiz  ejaculated: 

'The  notary!" 

'You  knew  him?"  asked  Guy. 

saw  him  killed — and  by  that  scoundrel  Halfen,  who  betrayed 

'He  must  be  removed  before  we  can  occupy  the  room,"  suggested 
Hamilton. 

"Here,  men,  take  this  body  out;  there  is  a  rear  apartment  back 
of  this.  Lay  it  there  for  the  present." 

Ruiz's  order  was  obeyed. 

Mr.  Trigg  and  Jones  were  tenderly  moved  into  the  office  and  made 
as  comfortable  as  possible.  No  surgeon  was  present,  but  willing 
hands  bared,  then  bandaged  their  wounds.  Guy  sat  by  his  old  friend, 
who  seemed  to  be  in  great  pain  and  manifested  a  disinclination  to  be 
talked  to,  after  he  had  once  announced  that  he  must  be  fatally  hurt. 
Jones  was  more  communicative,  and  also  claimed  to  be  mortalb 
wounded. 

'"Mr.  Trigg  is  suffering  so  much  I  would  give  a  great  deal 
a  little  chloroform  to  ease  him,"  said  Guy  sorrowfully. 

"That  reminds  me  that  the  notary  was  a  sort  of  doctor,"  s* 
Ruiz.     "Let  us  see  what  he's  got  in  this  chest." 

So  saying  Manuel  tried  the  chest,  but  finding  it  locked,  went  out 
and  in  a  very  short  time  returned  with  the  key,  having  found  it  in 
the  pocket  of  the  dead  owner.  The  contents;  of  the  chest  were  in 
good  order,  everything  being  methodically  arranged.  Papers,  plainly 
endorsed,  were  tied  in  packages  in  the  deep  tray,  separated  by 
divisions  forming  compartments.  Lifting  the  tray,  Ruiz  gave  an 
exclamation-  of  satisfaction  as  a  number  of  phials  showed  themselves 
in  a  miniature  chest  extending  across  one  end  of  the  larger  box. 
Guy  assisted  his  friend  in  examining  the  labels  of  the  phials  and  dis- 
covered one  with  chloroform  legibly  traced  on  its  paper.  After  the 
anesthetic  was  administered  to  both  of  the  sufferers,  Ruiz  recounted 
to  Guy  the  scenes  he  witnessed  on  two  occasions  between  the  Creole 
and  the  late  notary,  the  last  one  culminating  in  the  murder.  Guy  be- 
came interested  at  the  mention  of  the  mysterious  paper  which  aj 


GUY  RAYMOND.  403 

peared  to  have  been  the  bone  of  contention  between  the  murderer  and 
his  victim,  and  proposed  to  Manuel  to  jointly  inspect  the  contents  of 
the  tray  in  the  hopes  of  discovering  it.  A  cessation  in  the  firing 
having  inaugurated  an  involuntary  truce,  the  moment  appeared  pro- 
pitious for  the  search. 

Karnes  had  been  summoned  to  the  rear  to  participate  in  a  hastily 
called  council  of  war,  and  the  men,  save  a  detail,  engaged  in  pick- 
ing loop  holes  in  the  walls,  were  at  ease  in  the  adjoining  apartment. 
Among  the  first  packages  glanced  over  was  one  endorsed  "Papers  of 
Manoel  Canastadomiento."  Guy  read  the  name  of  many  letters  and 
remarked  that  it  was  Portuguese.  The  collection  appeared  to  be  doc- 
uments pertaining  to  the  notarial  office,  or  the  property  of  parties 
for  whom  the  deceased  had  acted  as  attorney  or  agent.  Finally  Ruiz 
read  an  endorsement  "Private  papers"  on  a  package  which  he  handed 
to  Guy.  The  latter  loosed  the  tape  which  secured  it,  and  found  per- 
haps a  dozen  papers  of  questionable  meaning,  and  appearing  to  be  mem- 
orandums. The  last  one  consisted  of  two  separate  papers  fastened 
together.  One  was  a  diagram,  which  at  once  absorbed  the  searcher's 
attention.  From  this  he  glanced  at  its  attached  companion.  His 
interest  increased  as  his  eye  ran  down  the  liquid  lines,  which  began : 


Along  the  outer  coast  you'll  see 
Little  circles — one — two — three, 
While  other  circles  in  plain  view 
Are  numbered  only  one  and  two. 


the  riddle  unfolded  itself  in  the  progress  of  the  rhyme,  Guy's 
heightened,  and  at  its  conclusion,  he  mentally  concluded  that 
the  paper  which  caused  the  murder  of  the  notary  was  in  his  hands. 
He  signified  as  much  to  Manuel,  as  he  replaced  the  memorandums  in 
the  package  and  deposited  the  rhyme  and  diagram  in  the  breast  pocket 
of  his  coat. 

During  the  afternoon  the  Texans  gained  two  or  more  advanced 
positions  on  their  right,  and  during  the  night  succeeded  in  occupying 
the  ^"avarro  house,  which  commanded  the  northwestern  corner  of 
Main  plaza  and  the  northeastern  exit  of  the  plaza  de  Armas.  The 
new  position  was  calculated  to  harass  the  enemy's  force  stationed  at 
the  foot  of  Soledad  street,  and  to  lessen  the  effectiveness  of  his  fire 
on  the  Texan  left  in  the  Veremendi  house  and  the  notary's  office. 
Guy's  attention  in  the  meantime  was  given  almost  exclusively  to  his 
stricken  friend,  who  before  the  nightfall,  was  resting  as  easy  as  his 
wound  and  circumstances  would  permit.  With  darkness,  besiegers 
and  besieged  turned  their  efforts  to  the  strengthening  of  their  re- 


Lb 

: 


404  GUY  RAYMOND. 

spective  positions  for  the  morrow's  work.     Yet  the  occasional  di 
charge  of  a  nrnsket  indicated  the  activity  of  the  garrison  or  the  spirit 
of  some  individual  soldier  who,  despite  the  reverses  of  his  side,  wishe 
to  manifest  his  unabated  defiance. 

In  Guy's  musings,  induced  by  his  watching,  he  never  once  doubte 
the  victorious  outcome  of  the  attack,  but  he  could  not  banish  a  certain 
dread,  that  danger  menaced  the  persons  of  Beatrice  and  Linda. 
The  certainty  of  defeat  in  the  last  moment  when  it  should  be  ap- 
parent that  the  city  must  fall  before  Texan  valor,  might  be  seized  as 
the  opportunity  for  vengeance  to  be  wreaked  upon  the  heads  of  the 
women  who  had  plotted  for  his  escape.  The  thought  wrought  upon 
him  until  the  picture  of  Mexican  revenge  rose  before  his  mind  and 
seemed  to  materialize  into  a  positive  realization. 

He  was  relieved  when  Ruiz  entered  in  his  brisk,  earnest  way  and 
said: 

"What  are  you  dreaming  about  ?     Is  there  any  change  ?" 

"Very  nearly  dreaming,  Manuel  *  Both  are  sleeping.  The  power 
of  the  narcotic  is  still  unbroken." 

"I  came  to  suggest  that  we  go  on  the  roof.  The  boys  have  cut  a 
hole  big  enough  to  pass  through  and  tomorrow  we  can  pop  those  fel- 
lows who  man  that  infernal  battery  from  the  parapet." 

"Fll  go  with  you.  I  need  something  to  drive  away  a  horrid 
thought." 

"A  horrid  thought!" 

"Yes,  a  mental  picture  of  Mexican  vengeance — vengeance  up 
Beatrice — upon  Linda." 

"A  possibility  in  case  of— 

"A  probability  in  the  imminence  of  defeat." 

"Come  away  and  banish  the  thought.     Tomorrow  will  settle  it." 

"Settle  it!     Yes,  settle  it;  upon  the  way  it  will  be  settled  muc 
depends.     Manuel  lead  the  way.     Fll  go  with  you  to  the  roof." 

In  the  apartment  to  the  rear  a  scaffold  had  been  erected  sufficient!} 
high  to  enable  a  worker  to  reach  the  flat  roof  above.  Between  the 
ponderous  timbers  which  supported  the  stone  roof,  a  hole  had  been 
made  sufficient  for  the  passage  of  a  large  man.  In  the  gloom  the 
aperture  could  not  have  been  discovered,  but  a  tallow  dip  stuck  upon 
the  highest  point  of  the  approach  disclosed  the  space  that  marked  a 
patch  of  the  black  empyrean.  Ruiz  mounted  first  and  Guy  fol- 
lowing, the  two  soon  trod  the  slightly  inclined  flags  above. 

The  chill  of  the  night  air  sent  a  tremor  through  their  frame: 
Along  the  southern  parapet  the  shadowy  forms  of  a  half  dozen  of  the 
Texans   were    visible,    their   whispered   words    greeting   the    ear 


GUY  RAYMOND.  405 

guarded  undertones,  typical  of  the  caution  necessitated  by  the  pres- 
ence of  danger. 

"Let  us  sit  here  for  a  moment,"  said  Ruiz.  "Here  above  the 
window  through  which  I  witnessed  the  assassination  of  the  notary." 

"That  Halfen  must  be  a  villain  of  the  first  water." 

"Undoubtedly,"  replied  Ruiz. 

The  friends  relapsed  into  silence  during  the  next  few  moments. 
The  ragged  clouds  scudded  before  the  north  wind,  veiling  ever  and 
anon  the  silver  horn  of  the  young  moon  low  sinking  in  the  west  and 
converting  the  heavens  into  ever  changing  patches  of  siderial  beauty. 
Guy,  full  of  his  last  trouble,  wondered  where  away  in  the  dark  city 
were  the  fair  prisoners,  and  chafed  at  the  thought  that  he  could  not 
go  at  once  to  their  rescue. 

"Ruiz,  where  can  thev  be  confined?" 

"The  ladies?" 

"Who  else?" 

"I  know  not,  amigo.  I  wish  I  did.  Perhaps  at  the  home  of 
Beatrice,  a  guard  keeping  them  in  durance." 

"I  fear  not,"  said  Guy,  dejectedly. 

"Who  calls?"  asked  Ruiz,  looking  over  the  wall  into  the  back 
enclosure.  "I  thought  I  heard  someone  call  my  name." 

"I,  myself,  heard  a  voice,"  said  Guy. 

"Who's  there?"  demanded  Ruiz,  in  a  louder  tone. 

"Yo,  amigo;  Miguel." 

"Miguel?" 

"Si,  senor;  mozo  de  Don  Juan." 

"That's  lucky,"  said  Ruiz.     "We'll  hear  from  the  ladies." 

"How  knew  you  that  Ruiz  was  here?"  asked  Guy,  puzzled  that  the 
giant  should  have  discovered  his  companion's  presence. 

"I  heard  his  voice  and  knew  it;  the  same  as  T  know  that  you  are 
Senor  Raymond." 

"A  wonderful  ear — your's,"  said  Guy,  bending  over  the  wall,  "but 
what  of  your  mistress ;  is  she  yet  a  prisoner  ?'' 

"Si,  senor,  y  tambien  la  Senorita  Linda." 

"Where  are  they  confined?" 

"They  have  been  removed  to  the  house  of  Boriito  at  the  carcel, 
in  the  room  of  the  Senorita  Linda." 

"Are  they  in  danger  ?" 

"So  says  my  master,  who  is  in  hiding  to  avoid  arrest,  and  that 
is  why  I  am  here.  An  attack  by  your  men  on  the  jail  early  in  the 
morning  may  save  them.  There  is  talk  of  shooting  them  at  the  last 
moment  if  the  Texans  gain  the  city." 


406  GUY  EAYMOND. 

"My  presentiment,  Manuel,"  said  Guy,  rising  from  the  parape 

excitedly. 

"It  was  the  wave  of  sympathy  flowing  between  congenial  souls." 
"Let's  descend  and  admit  Miguel.     By  heaven-,  something  mu 

be  done  and  tonight.     Miguel!     Await  us.     Kuiz  and  I  will  let  you 


et 

= 


Guy  was  the  first  down  and  soon  had  the  faithful  Miguel  in  con- 
sultation. 

"Miguel,"  he  said  earnestly,  "tell  me  of  Beatrice." 

"The  senorita  knows  her  danger,  senor." 

"Why  did  you  seek  us?" 

"To  aid  me  in  her  rescue." 

"Have  you  a  plan?" 

"None,  senor.     Time  flies  too  swiftly  to  plan." 

"We'll  plan  as  we  go,  Miguel,  and  rely  on  our  manhood  to  achieve 
success." 

"Your's  is  to  lead,  senor ;  Miguel  will  follow,  faithful  and  strong." 

"Here  is  Euiz,  and  excited.     What  is  it,  Manuel?" 

"Jose  is  without,  with  a  message  from  the  padre." 

"Father  Ignacio?" 

"The  worst  is  to  be  feared.  Our  success  has  enraged  the  officers 
of  the  garrison  and  there  is  no  time  to  lose.  The  cowards  would  wreak 
vengeance  upon  those  who  sympathize  with  us,  even  upon  women." 

"This  from  Father  Ignacio !"  said  Guy,  half  aside. 

"Then — then — Beatrice !  Oh,  Beatrice !  Manuel,  will  you  throw 
your  valor  in  the  scale  against  this  intended  wrong?  A  few  brave 
hearts  may  rescue  from  their  very  nest  the  virtuous  prey  upon  which 
these  carrion  crows  have  fastened." 

"Senor,  I  am  with  you  to  the  death.  Let  us  find  Karnes  and 
decide  our  course.  There  will  be  no  lack  of  volunteers." 

"Come,  Miguel/-'  said  Guy,  following  Euiz  out.  "Come,  your 
mistress  and  Linda  shall  pass  sentence  on  their  judges." 


CHAPTEE  LV. 

"M-a-la— for-tuna !  Little  peace  has  there  been  for  Bonito  in 
the  last  few  days.  Euined  by  robbery,  harassed  by  suspicion;  I  was 
miserable  enough  before  my  child  was  charged  with  crime.  Linda 
a  prisoner!  The  fact  seems  more  like  a  horrible  dream  than  the 
truth  it  is.  I  left  her  in  tears,  but  they  were  shed  for  me.  She 
bears  bravely  up,  like  her  friend,  the  wonderful  Beatrice.  Both 
are  heroines.  Here  comes  the  priest.  He,  too,  will  say,  like  Linda, 


GUY  EAMOND.  407 

that  my  bad  luck  all  comes  from  my  neglect  of  church  duties.     ^Tis 
true,  the  monte  pio  has  no  bad  luck  and  is  often  at  confession." 

Here  Father  Ignacio  entered,  interrupting  the  soliloquy  of  the 
jailer,  who  had  been  slowly  walking  to  and  fro  in  the  court  of  the 
CM  reel  under  the  light  which  showed  dimly  from  above  his  doorway. 

"Ha !  Bonito ;  all  alone  and  troubled  ?" 

"Until  you  came,  mi  padre,  yet  not  alone,  for  hard  thoughts  were 
niv  companions.  Troubled?  Yes,  I  have  seen  no  peace  for  days." 

"Cheer  up,  hijo,  troubles  go  with  time,  and  time  is  swift  of  wing." 

"But  I  am  growing  old,  and  the  same  swift  wings  are  bearing  me  to 
the  grave." 

"For  which  you  should  be  in  readiness.  It  is  long  since  you  con- 
fessed, hijo,  and  confession  is  fruitful  of  grace,  and  grace  brings 
strength  to  bear  ills  and  inclination  to  turn  troubles  to  benefits. 
Who  suiters  here  with  a  proper  spirit  will  lessen,  the  term  of  pro- 
bation in  purgatory." 

"What  mortal  not  a  priest  or  a  holy  nun  suffers  with  this  spirit  ?" 

"Among  the  women,  many ;  there  are  a  few  among  the  men." 

"The  monte  pio,  for  instance." 

es,  the  monte  pio.     He  is  often  at  his  duties." 
is   conscience  spurs  him.     He  must  go  often   to  escape  for- 
getting the  number  of  his  exactions." 

"You  are  envious,  hijo." 

"Only  of  his  luck.  No  one  robes  the  monte  pio,  altho'  he  robs 
the  public." 

"That  is  'his  affair  and  the  public's.  'Have  you  heard  the  latest 
news?" 

"'News?" 

"'About  the  prisoners." 

"Linda?" 

"•And  Beatrice." 

"I  am  from  them  but  a  moment  since;  their  bravery  is  remark- 
able." 

"They  will  need  it  all,  for  they  have  been  condemned." 

"Condemned?" 

"By  the  thing  they  call  a  military  court." 

"Their  sentence?" 

"To  be  shot." 

"Women?" 

"Tlio  decision  was  that  for  treason  in  the  presence  of  the  enemy 
the  law  knows  no  extenuation  on  account  of  sex." 

•'Oh,  Linda!     Nina!     It  cannot  be,  mi  padre.     Let  them  shoot 


408  GUY  KAYMOND. 

Bonito —  '  then  bethinking  himself  of  the  vault  and  its  precious 
contents,  he  said  aside :  "No,  if  I  am  killed  I  lose  those  bags  of  gold, 
and  the  secret  will  die  with  me.  No,  Bonito  must  live;  live  to  guard 
and  still  better  hide  the  treasure." 

"Poor  fellow,  he  loves  his  daughter,  and  the  prospect  of  her  fate 
sorely  affects  him,"  were  Father  Ignacio's  half  uttered  words. 

"Remember,  hijo,  that  there  are  yet  hopes  that  these  jewels  may 
be  saved." 

"Jewels!"  said  Bonito,  suddenly  recalled  to  the  other's  presence. 
"There's  not  a  jewel  in  the  bags." 

"Jewels  to  their  parents,"  continued  the  priest,  not  perceiving 
the  jailer's  mistake.  "Don  Juan  worships  his  daughter." 

"Oh,  Linda! — the  prisoners  mean  you?" 

"Who  else?  Of  these  we  were  speaking.  Bonito,  your  mind 
wanders.  Bear  up,  hijo.  Perhaps  succor  may  come  from  these 
daring  Texans  who  are  now  not  many  varas  away.  Miguel,  the  faith- 
ful mozo,  and  Jose  have  gone  with  a  message  to  Ruiz  and  Senor 
Raymond,  who " 

"El  pajarro,  the  cause  of  all  my  late  troubles !"  interrupted  Bonito. 

"A  brave  youth  and  full  of  resources,"  argued  the  priest. 

"True,  and  a  friend  of  the  spirits,  who  have  given  him  the  secret 
of  passing  through  a  hole  that  would  stop  a  mouse." 

"That  is  nonsense,  hijo ;  but  he  is  fearless  and  loves  Beatrice  and 
admires  Linda " 

"Both  are  crazy  for  him." 

"And  when  he  learns  their  danger  I  am  sure  his  chivalrous  nature 
will  plan  a  rescue.  Already  the  Texans  have  gained  the  northwes- 
tern side  of  the  plaza,  and  a  bold  sortie  might  be  made  before  the 
morrow.  The  sentence  of  the  court  has  been  ordered  to  be  carried 
out  tonight,  lest  the  victims  escape  through  the  triumph  of  the 
enemy.  I  hate  to  confess  it,  hijo,  but  the  cruelty  and  indecency  of 
our  military  almost  places  me  on  the  side  of  the  rebels." 

"It  is  all  one  to  Bonito;  the  government  plunders  through  pres- 
timos,  and  the  rebels  will  ransack  you  for  pesos." 

"Go  in,  hijo,  and  tell  the  ladies  that  I  will  see  them  to  give  them 
comfort  in  this  sad  hour." 

"You  may  enter;  a  priest's  cassock  is  his  pass.     The  sentii 
in  the  hall." 

Father  Ignacio  entered  the  hall. 

"He  goes  to  console  them.     Little  use,  if  they  are  to  be  shot 
Who  pities  Bonito  for  his  loss?     Who  will  cry  if  by  chance  the  new 
hiding  place  be  discovered  and  he  loses  all?     It  is  better  to  be  dead 


GUY  RAYMOND.  409 

than  to  live  without  money;  and  to  live  in  dread  of  its  loss  is  harder 
to  bear  than  poverty." 

Father  Ignacio  found  the  prisoners  in  Linda's  room. 

They  little  dreamed  of  the  dreadful  order  which  had  emanated 
from  their  judges  who  had  tried  them  without  their  presence  or  a 
word  in  their  defense  through  even  a  pretended  representation.  On 
suspicion  with  complicity  with  Ruiz  in  the  late  raid,  and  of  their  aid 
in  the  escape  of  the  American  spy,  the  two  fairest  daughters  of  Boxnr 
were  to  be  cruelly  executed.  The  threatened  capture  of  the  town 
within  the  next  few  hours  gave  rise  to  the  determination  to  have  the 
sentence  carried  out  at  once.  The  good  father  did  not  enlighten 
them  as  to  their  intended  fate,  but  chose  rather  to  enliven  their 
spirits  by  his  conversation,  hoping  that  the  coming  moments  might 
develop  something  to  bar  the  dreaded  eventuality. 

"How  are  you  getting  along,  my  children  ?" 

"Quite  well,  father,"  replied  Beatrice.  "Linda  has  dried  her 
tears.  My  eyes  have  yet  to  be  moistened,  while  my  heart  is  l)nm> 
and  my  confidence  supreme.  We  are  so  glad  to  see  you." 

"These  are  terrible  times.  The  rebels  are  in  the  heart  of  the  town, 
and  the  garrison  is  powerless  to  oust  them.  Has  the  firing  alarmed 
you." 

"It  has  made  me  nervous,"  said  Linda. 

"It  frets  me  to  think  how  powerless  I  am  to  help  whip  the  cowards 
who  war  upon  women,"  said  Beatrice. 

"I  can  hardly  blame  you,  hija,  for  the  army  seems  to  have  de- 
veloped into  a  body  of  barbarians.  They  have  become  brutalized 
by  revolutions." 

"They  have  fallen  from  the  plane  of  civilization  through  mis- 
cegnation.  A  mongrel  race  have  few,  if  any,  of  the  instincts  of 
honor,"  said  Beatrice,  through  whose  veins  coursed  the  pure  blood  of 
Castile. 

"I  cannot  quite  agree  with  you,  hija.  The  causes  of  race  deteriora- 
tion are  complex.  The  governing  causes  are  radical.  With  Mexicans 
it  is  not  a  question  of  retrogression,  but  rather  one  of  advancement. 
The  infusion  of  Spanish  blood  was  not  a  benefit  to  the  Aztec  with- 
out a  guarantee  of  an  individualism,  which  alone  can  develop  char- 
acter, intelligence  and  worthy  citizenship.  Mexico  is  a  country  of 
classes  created  by  unjust  though  legalized  social  adjustments,  tending 
to  foster  arrogance  on  the  one  hand  and  widespread  ignorance  on  the 
other.  It  is  a  mock  republic  which  breeds  a  few  land  owners  and 
millions  of  peons.  Land  nationalization  must  be  the  remedy  for 
the  absence  of  healthy  individualism,  while  a  liberal  system  of  edu- 


410  GUY  RAYMOND. 


cation  under  the  auspices  of  our  Holy  church  will  secure  a  high 
standard  of  morality  and  enlightenment." 

"You  agree  with  Senor  Raymond  in  regard  to  your  first  remedy. 
He  regards  the  private  ownership  of  land  as  immoral,  believing  that 
it  belongs  to  the  people  for  use,  and  that  the  great  value  which  some 
locations  attain  through  the  presence  of  population  should  benefit 
society,  and  not  be  gobbled  up  by  speculators.  His  ideas  about 
education  differ  from  yours.  He  believes  that  religious  supervision 
should  not  be  tolerated." 

"Senor  Raymond  is  very  bright,  but  he  is  young  yet,"  said  the 
priest. 

A  noise  at  the  outer  door  here  interrupted  the  conversation.  Its 
opening  was  followed  by  the  entrance  of  an  officer  in  full  uniform ; 
then  three  others  filed  in  and  took  places  slightly  in  the  rear  of  the 
first.  Father  Tgnacio  rose,  but  the  ladies  kept  their  seats.  Linda's 
nervous  glance  soon  fell  to  the  floor,  while  Beatrice  gave  the  in- 
truders a  look  which  blended  defiance  with  contempt. 

The  officer  who  first  entered  spoke : 

"These  are  the  prisoners,  Beatrice  Navarro  and  Linda,  the  daughter 
of  the  jailer,  are  they  not?" 

"These  are  the  ladies  you  have  named,"  said  Father  Ignacio. 

"The  prisoners  will  stand  and  hear  the  sentence  of  the  court,*' 
said  the  officer. 

"Sentence  of  the  court!"  exclaimed  Beatrice.  "A  sentence  with- 
out a  trial ?" 

"The  trial  has  been  held  and  you  have  been  convicted  of  high 
crimes." 

"A  sample  of  Mexican  military  justice,  and  worthy  of  the  bar- 
barism which  you  represent,"  said  Beatrice,  excitedly. 

"Stand  up,  senoritas,  and  take  your  medicine.  A  pretty  pair  to 
be  sacrificed,  I  must  say,  but  the  law  must  be  executed.  Stand  up." 

"I  recognize  only  the  authority  of  force,  and  defy  that  when  rep- 
resented by  the  minions  of  tyranny,"  replied  the  courageous  girl. 

"Let  them  remain  seated,  captain,  and  hear  the  sentence,"  said 
one  of  the  other  officers. 

"Listen  to  the  decree  of  the  court,"  said  the  captain. 

"lie  it  known  that  the  court  appointed  by  his  excellency,  General 
— ,  for  the  purpose  of  trying  the  prisoners  Beatrice  Navarro 
and  Linda,  the  daughter  of  the  jailer,  charged  with  having  ^iven  aid 
to  the  rebels  and  with  having  assisted  in  the  e-c-ape  of  one  Guv  Ray- 
mond from  tin-  carcel  of  Bexar.  have,  upon  ample  and  indisputable 
testimony,  found  the  said  prisoners  guilty  of  the  char-vs  as  stated. 


GUY  RAYMOND.  ^11 

The  court,  therefore,  decrees  that  the  said  prisoners  shall  suffer  the 
full  penalty  of  the  law  provided  for  the  punishment  of  the  offenses 
named.  It  is,  therefore,  ordered  that  the  said  Beatrice  Navarre  and 
the  said  Linda  be  instantly  executed  by  shooting,  and  for  this  purpose 
they  shall  be  immediately  turned  over  to  the  provost  guard." 

Linda  fainted  before  the  conclusion  of  the  reading,  while  Beatrice, 
still  defiant,  went  to  her  assistance.  While  efforts  were  being  made 
to  resuscitate  the  insensible  girl,  a  guard  was  waiting  outside  to  con- 
vey her  and  her  sympathizing  companion  to  the  place  of  execution 
on  the  plaza. 

In  order  to  gain  time,  Father  Ignacio  claimed  that  an  oppor- 
tunity be  given  the  condemned  to  utilize  his  priestly  offices. 

For  this  purpose  twenty  minutes  was  grudgingly  accorded,  and 
all  withdrew  save  the  priest  and  the  prisoners.  The  former  lost  no 
time  in  communicating  his  hopes  that  a  rescue  would  be  attempted, 
and  from  the  great  peril  that  threatened  them,  he  assured  the  ladies 
that  Guy  and  Manuel  would  make  success  assured  by  a  little  less  than 
superhuman  effort  and  the  full  display  of  their  irresistable  courage. 
The  words  of  the  father  had  a  happier  effect  than  could  have  been 
produced  by  spiritual  advice,  and  even  Linda  smiled  as  Beatrice,  in 
her  ardor,  compared  the  gallantry  of  her  lover  with  the  pusillanimity 
of  the  average  officer  of  the  garrison. 

The  moments  glided  by.  A  rap  at  the  door,  followed  by  a  voice, 
warned  the  priest  that  the  time  had  nearly  expired,  and  that  the 
condemned  must  be  ready. 

It  was  a  desperate  moment. 

Father  Ignacio  rose  to  his  feet,  and  after  calling  to  the  guard 
to  announce  that  they  would  be  ready  in  five  minutes,  he  motioned 
to  the  ladies  to  follow  him.  They  made  their  way  to  the  hall.  Here 
the  sentinel  would  have  been  an  obstacle,  but  the  quick  witted  priest 
went  boldly  up  to  him,  and  in  a  tone  of  superiority,  said : 

"The  officer  in  front  orders  you  to  step  outside  the  door  into  the 
court  until  I  hear  the  confessions  of  these  poor  condemned  prisoners. 
Let  no  one  in  to  disturb  us." 

The  soldier  had  a  natural  respect  for  the  ghostly  office  of  the 
father,  and  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion,  when  two  souls  were  to  be 
shriven  in  order  to  enter  into  the  presence  of  their  Maker,  caused 
him  to  have  no  doubt  of  the  truth  of  the  message  from  his  superior. 
He  therefore  did  as  he  was  ordered  without  hesitation. 

Simultaneously  with  the  exit  of  the  sentinel,  Bonito's  head  arose 
from  the  opening  to  the  vault,  which  had  not  been  rearranged  for 
concealment  since  Miguel  forcibly  opened  it.  The  jailer  felt  that 


412  GUY  KAYMOND. 

his  hoard  was  secure  and  would  be,  perhaps,   more  so   if  he  was 
thought  to  be  indifferent  about  the  knowledge  of  the  vault's  existence. 

"Oh,  mi  padre!     They  would  kill  me!     Already  they  are  waiti 
to  lead  us  out  to  be  shot,"  cried  Linda,  at  the  sight  of  her  father. 

"For  Dios!     No.     It  must  not  be.     Eh,  mi  padre!     Down  wi 
you  in  the  vault;  but  the  sentinel — I  forgot — no — he  is  not  in  the 
hall.     Then  down  with  you." 

As  he  said  this  Bonito  motioned  violently  for  them  to  descend. 
The  priest  joined  in  the  advice  and  assisted  them  down.  A  noise  in 
the  court  and  an  imprecation  hastened  their  movements,  and  the 
lounge  was  arranged  by  the  deft  hands  of  Bonito  so  as  to  hide  the 
opening.  The  noise  without  merged  into  an  apparent  scuffle.  An 
instant  later  it  ceased ;  the  door  opened  and  Guy,  fully  armed,  sprang 
through  it,  followed  by  a  dozen  men.  Quickly  and  in  as  few  words 
as  possible,  the  priest  informed  him  of  the  situation.  Guy  put  his 
hand  to  his  brow  for  a  second,  then  decided. 

It  was  an  ordeal,  but  it  must  be  met. 

"Go,"  he  said  to  Father  Ignacio.  "Go  tell  them  that  Bonito 
and  some  friends  snatched  the  prisoners  from  you  and  bore  them  to 
the  court." 

"But,  senor,  if  this  is  told  them  Bonito's  life  will  answer  for  it." 

"Hush,  craven!  Down  you,  too,  into  the  vault  with  the  women, 
where  you  belong/ 

Bonito  obeyed.  f 

As  the  priest  left  on  his  errand,  Guy  sprang  back  to  the  court  and 
reappeared  a  moment  later. 

"Hamilton,  you  and  Perry  watch  me  and  strike  when  I  strik 
Let  the  other  men  be  ready,  and  if  the  ball  opens,  they  know  what 
they  came  for.  Miguel,  open  that  trap.  Descend  and  reassure  the 
ladies.  When  I  give  the  signal,  bring  them  up." 

The  giant  disappeared  below  with  a  grunt  of  sativsf action. 

A  howl  of  rage  from  the  garden  rent  the  air  at  this  moment. 
This,  with  the  succeeding  tramp  of  men  in  Linda's  room,  indicated 
that  the  priest  had  told  his  story. 

The  door  opened  and  the  captain  who  had  read  the  sentence  of 
the  court,  appeared. 

He  was  caught  in  the  strong  grasp  of  Hamilton,  while  Guy  de- 
prived him  of  of  his  sabre.  Perry  slammed  the  door  as  the  Mis- 
sissippian  thrust  his  prisoner  into  Bonito's  room  and  placed  a  guard 
over  it.  The  capture  was  made  so  quickly  that  the  enemy  in  the 
room  supposed  the  door  had  been  shut  by  their  man,  so  when  the 
next  entered,  he  was  treated  to  the  same  tactics.  This  continued 


: 


GUT  RAYMOND.  413 

until  five  captures  had  been  effected.  The  sixth  attempt  miscarried 
and  the  retreating  soldier  fired  a  shot  into  the  door.  Hamilton 
was  about  to  spring  into  the  room  when  Guy  held  him  back,  saying : 

"Not  yet,  Hamilton ;  that  shot  of  the  enemy  is  the  signal  for  Ruiz 
and  Karnes  to  act.  If  I  mistake  not,  we  will  bag  a  room  full  of  the 
cowards.  Stand  from  the  door,  for  the  bullets  will  be  coming/' 

The  warning  was  none  too  soon.  A  volley  was  poured  into  the 
oaken  boards,  splintering  them  well  on  the  outside.  Others  followed, 
but  not  a  man  was  injured.  According  to  programme,  a  general 
fire  was  opened  upon  the  garrison  from  the  Texan  positions.  This 
firing  with  the  response  from  the  Mexican  artillery  and  small  arms 
was  expected  to  drown  the  noise  of  the  raid  on  the  carcel.  The  crack 
of  the  Texan  rifles  and  reports  of  muskets  filled  the  air,  when  Guy 
ordered  his  men  to  follow  him  into  the  room  immediately  after  a 
strong  volley  had  been  poured  into  the  door.  With  a  yell  sufficient 
to  appall  a  not  over  courageous  foe,  the  men  rushed  into  the  rooin, 
now  containing  about  a  score  of  the  enemy.  Guy  brandished  the  cut- 
lass, which  had  done  so  much  execution  the  night  of  his  escape, 
while  his  men  discharged  their  pieces  at  the  bewildered  enemy. 
Ruiz's  voice  and  Nathan's  war  whoop  in  the  garden,  as  Guy's  sup- 
porting force  dropped  from  the  parapet  and  drove  the  Mexicans 
into  the  building,  called  forth  an  answering  cheer  from  those  within, 
succeeded  by  a  combined  outburst  of  enthusiasm  as  the  terrified  enemy 
begged  for  quarter. 

Guy  hastened  to  the  opening  to  the  vault  and  gave  a  loud  whistle. 
In  less  than  half  a  minute  Beatrice  was  in  his  arms.  Linda  had 
scarcely  reached  the  level  when  Ruiz  grasped  her  hand,  and  before 
she  realized  it,  he  pressed  his  lips  passionately  to  her  cheek.  Miguel 
stooped  over  and  pulled  up  Bonito,  who  was  climbing  the  steps  as 
fast  as  a  fat  corporosity  would  permit. 

"Es  el  pajarro !  Pajarro  fuerte  y  bravo,"  said  Bonito  between 
the  short  breaths  induced  by  his  exertion. 

"Ruiz,  put  the  men  in  motion — the  same  route  we  came.  I  will 
take  Hamilton,  Perry,  Roach  and  Miguel  with  the  ladies.  Jose  will 
guide  the  advance  under  Karnes,  while  you  bring  up  the  rear.  The 
general  fire  will  save  us  from  observation." 

"And  the  prisoners?" 

"Lock  the  ragtag  and  bobtail  in  the  cells.  Here,  Bonito,  stir 
around  and  do  your  duty;  open  the  cells.  The  five  in  that  room  we 
will  take  with  us." 

The  prisoners  locked  in,  the  retreat  began.  At  the  exit  to  Carcel 
street  Jose  was  found  walking  his  post.  He  had  been  placed  here 

27 


414  GUY  RAYMOND. 

by  the  raiders,  who  had  captured  the  Mexican  guard,  with  orders 
to  personate  the  regular  sentinel  and  protect  the  rear  of  the  party. 
He  was  now  relieved  and  commissioned  to  guide  the  retreat.  The 
advance  was  in  charge  of  Karnes.  In  the  centre  of  the  column 
walked  Guy  with  one  of  the  rescued  ladies  on  each  arm  and  circled 
by  the  chosen  body  guard.  Ruiz  brought  up  the  rear,  driving  before 
him  the  five  prisoners  who  had  been  captured  in  such  a  novel  manner 
in  the  hall.  The  route  lay  along  the  south  side  of  the  main  plaza 
and  necessitated  a  close  brush  by  the  door  of  Father  Ignacio..  The 
latter  had  hastened  home  after  witnessing  the  triumph  of  his  friends 
in  order  to  pray  for  their  safe  exit  from  further  peril.  He  opened 
his  shutter  as  the  tramp  of  feet  was  heard  below,  and  giving  the 
sign  of  the  benediction,  he  said  so  all  could  hear  him : 

"Pax  Domini  sit  semper  vobiscum." 

Guy  gratefully  repeated  the  response  which  he  had  heard  iterated 
by  the  choir  on  the  Sunday  he  first  attended  at  mass  in  San  Fernando : 

"Et  cum  spiritu  tuo." 

"That  sounds  quite  orthodox  for  an  unbeliever,"  said  Beatrice, 
looking  up  into  her  lover's  face. 

"I  remember  the  benediction  as  well  as  the  response  from  my  first 
visit  to  the  Cathedral/'  replied  Guy. 

"It  must  have  impressed  you." 

"Yes;  it  did,  but  not  nearly  as  much  as  something  I  saw  on  that 
occasion  for  the  first  time." 

"And  what  was  that?" 

"Your  dear  features." 

In  reply  Guy  felt  a  tighter  pressure  of  the  fair  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"The  witches  are  sidin'  with  us,  Perry,"  said  Nathan,  in  a  whis- 
per to  the  boy. 

"How  you  know  ?"  asked  Perry. 

"Didn't  yer  hear  the  croakin'  from  that  dark  winder,  and  this 
feller  Raymon'  answerin'  of  'em?"  said  the  backwoodsman,  in  a 
solemn  tone. 

"Was  it,  Mr.  Hamilton  ?"  asked  Perry,  in  a  doubting  way. 

"Was  it  what?"  asked  Hamilton. 

"A  witch  that  Mr.  Raymond  was  talking  to  ?" 

"I  might  answer  like  an  oracle,  my  boy,  for  he  was  talking  just 
now  to  one  who  has  bewitched  him — ergo  she  must  be  a  witch — the 
one  on  his  right  arnj." 

"No,  not  her;  Mr.  Roach  meant  that  witch  in  the  window  that 
Mr.  Raymond  spoke  to  in  some  sort  of  talk.  Was  that  a  witch  ?" 

"Perry,  witch  is  feminine,  a  female.     Now,  the  voice  you  allude 


GUY  RAYMOND.  415 

to  was  not  that  of  a  female — ergo,  if  it  belonged  to  the  species 
witch  it  must  have  been  the  voice  of  a  wizard." 

"Yer  gettin'  into  worse  mess,  Perry,  by  askin'  information  from 
him/'  suggested  Nathan. 

"What  is  a  species  witch,  Mr.  Hamilton." 

"By  species  I  mean  what  you  and  Mr.  Roach  would  term  birds 
of  a  feather — a  disquisition  on  species  would  involve  an  explanation 
of  the  term  genus,  which  would  necessitate  the  employment  of  ter- 
minologies that  would  involve  you  in  a  mental  darkness  blacker  than 
that  which  is  at  this  moment  so  apparent  to  our  physical  sense." 

"What'd  I  tell  yer,  Perry,"  said  Roach,  disgusted. 

"Yer  can't  git  nothin'  from  an  ass  but  a  bray." 

"But  what  was  the  voice  from  the  window,  Mr.  Hamilton,  in 
plain  words?"  asked  Perry,  still  persistent. 

"It  was  that  priest  we  found  at  the  jail.  He  was  saying  to  some- 
body— these  ladies,  I  suppose — 'God's  peace  be  with  them.' '' 

The  strange  procession  now  moved  along  in  silence  save  the  easy 
tramp  of  caution  or  whispered  words  as  comrades  exchanged  remarks 
suggested  by  their  raid.  The  darkness  was  propitious;  the  route 
so  well  selected  that  the  Texan  flank  was  doubled  without  adventure, 
and  the  gallant  actors  in  the  rescue  found  themselves  safe  within  the 
patriot  lines. 

CHAPTER  LVI. 

The  morning  after  the  rescue  of  Beatrice  and  Linda  from  the 
impending  danger  of  a  barbarous  execution,  the  military  situation 
in  the  city  had  reached  a  degree  in  the  solution  of  the  problem  of  its 
capture  which  left  no  doubt  in  the  minds  of  the  aggressive  forces 
of  the  speedy  success  of  their  attack.  The  steady  advance  of  the 
Texan  line  under  cover  of  the  heavy  walls  of  the  stone  buildings 
and  the  increasing  casualties  resulting  from  the  accurate  aim  of 
their  rifles  had  already  disheartened  the  Mexican  troops  when  the 
daring  descent  upon  the  jail  very  nearly  produced  a  feeling  of  demor- 
alization. 

It  was,  therefore,  no  great  surprise  to  the  parties  on  either  side 
when  a  vigorous  fire  from  the  Texans,  in  which  the  enemy's  ar- 
tillery on  the  plaza  was  silenced,  was  succeeded  by  a  flag  of  truce 
from  the  Mexican  commander  offering  to  capitulate.  The  succeeding 
surrender  with  its  terms  belongs  to  the  history  of  Texas.  The 
Mexican  forces  were  paroled,  their  officers  being  accorded  the  honors 
of  war.  So  the  Texans,  after  long  waiting  and  with  vastly  reduced 
forces,  made  themselves  masters  of  the  city  of  the  Alamo.  The 


416  GUY  KATMOND. 

prize  demanded  a  sacrifice,  and  with  the  victims  perished  a  heroic 
few,  among  whom  was  the  gallant  Milam,  the  spirit  and  the  leader 
of  the  assault.  The  fall  of  San  Antonio,  while  it  drove  the  enemy 
from  his  last  important  hold  north  of  the  Eio  Bravo,  was  not  re- 
garded by  the  population  of  the  west  as  secure  from  a  speedy  re- 
capture by  the  forces  under  the  soldier  president,  Santa  Anna.  The 
latter  had  been  long  preparing  to  invade  the  State,  and  had  already 
assembled  a  considerable  force  on  the  border,  when  he  received  the 
news  of  the  disaster  to  the  Mexican  arms. 

Among  the  citizens  of  Bexar  who  knew  what  to  expect  from  the 
vengeance  of  the  Mexican  tyrant  was  Don  Juan  Navarro.  He  smiled 
when  told  of  the  liberal  terms  granted  to  the  captured  garrison,  for 
he  knew  what  Texans  might  expect  when  they  chanced  to  come  into 
the  power  of  the  despot.  That  his  views  and  statements  were  pro- 
phetic, the  subsequent  massacres  which  stained  the  soil  of  Texas  with 
noble  blood  will  tell,  and  these,  the  bloody  climaxes  of  her  struggle 
for  independence,  will  ever  mar  the  record  in  glaring  contrast  with 
the  magnanimity  of  her  veterans  when,  in  the  flush  of  victory  at  San 
Jacinto,  they  declined  to  wreak  a  just  vengenace  upon  their  author. 

Don  Juan  was  a  marked  man.  There  was  no  excuse  for  colonists 
to  rebel;  there  was  still  less  reason  why  Mexicans  should  give  to 
rebels  aid  and  comfort.  His  daughter  had  only  escaped  execution. 
He,  therefore,  reasoned  that  a  recapture  of  Bexar  meant  death  to 
himself  and  child  if  they  should  remain  to  become  the  prey  of  the 
barbarous  instincts  of  the  dictator. 

The  afternoon  of  the  surrender,  Don  Juan  was  sitting  in  his 
room  ruminating  upon  the  future,  the  subject  just  mentioned  upper- 
most in  his  mind,  when  Beatrice  joined  him. 

"I  was  just  thinking  of  you,  my  child. " 

"I  hope  I  am  often  in  your  thoughts,  father/' 

"You  are  ever  there,  but  this  time  you  are  connected  with  a  serious 
question  that  has  arisen  and  will  give  me  no  peace  until  I  dispose  of 
it  satisfactorily/' 

"What   can   it  be?"   said   Beatrice,   flushing.     "You   said   it 
serious  ?" 

"Serious." 

"What  caused  it  to  arise  ?" 

"Today's  surrender." 

"Well— is  that  all  ?*' 

"No.     The  town's  recapture." 

"I  see — a  recapture  would  moan  renewed  danger  for  us." 

"Eenewed  danger!     Yes — death." 


GUY  EAYMOND.  417 

"But  the  Texans  whipped  them  out  of  strong  walls ;  can  they  not 
better  keep  them  out?" 

"It  looks  plausible,  but  these  men  are  few;  not  organized;  have 
scarcely  a  government,  and  are  so  confident  that  they  are  sure  to  be- 
come careless;  they  will  thereby  become  ripe  for  plucking  and  Santa 
Anna  will  pluck  them." 

"Why  not  go  to  their  councils,  father,  and  give  your  views?  If 
you  will  not,  then  post  some  one  of  them  so  as  to  avert  this  danger. 
You  will  find  some  of  them  as  intelligent  and  wise  as  they  are  brave 
and  chivalrous." 

"Senor  Kaymond,  for  instance." 

Beatrice  colored  deeply. 

"I  confess  that  he  was  my  ideal  as  I  spoke.  It  was  natural  that 
my  twofold  deliverer  should  fill  the  role,  as  I  have  found  him  to  be 
intelligent  and  wise." 

"This  is  a  digression,  my  child.  The  danger  must  be  first  planned 
against.  Then,  if  by  wise  counsels  the  young  government  should 
be  equal  to  the  emergencies  that  war  produces,  all  the  better.  I  have 
decided  that  you  must  go  to  New  Orleans  until  the  dangers  of  invasion 
are  past." 

"To  New  Orleans  P 

"The  best  asylum  I  can  think  of." 

"And  sister?" 

"She  has  a  husband." 

"And "  Beatrice  hesitated. 

"And  you  have  a  lover,  I  suppose  you  were  about  to  say." 

"Oh,  father !" 

The  daughter  left  the  room. 

In  the  notary's  office  the  joy,  produced  by  the  news  of  the  surrender 
of  the  garrison,  was  mixed  with  the  bitter  of  the  final  leavetaking 
which  death  exacts  from  those  whose  lives  have  been  intertwined 
through  the  congenialities  which  mark  character,  or  the  interests 
which  become  developed  by  intercourse.  The  faces  of  those  who 
were  grouped  around  the  pallet  of  Mr.  Trigg  wore  the  sad  expression 
which  comes  unbidden  in  the  presence  of  dissolution.  Guy  sat  near 
his  pillow,  holding  his  hand,  while  Perry,  full  of  sorrow,  sat  op- 
posite. Jones,  the  other  wounded  messmate,  had  passed  away  during 
the  night,  and  Karnes  was  absent  on  duty.  Hamilton  stood  near 
the  window,  giving  a  view  of  the  section  of  the  river,  out  of  which 
he  gazed  with  an  aimless  stare.  Nathan  had  stretched  himself  upon 
the  notary's  chest,  his  expression  more  stoical  than  sad. 

"How  long  is  it  since  the  message  was  sent  to  Father  Ignacio?" 
asked  Guy. 


418  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"About  ten  minutes/'  replied  Perry. 

"It  seemed  to  me  much  longer/' 

"He  won't  rally  again,  so  the  priest  need  not  come,"  said  Ham- 
ilton, turning  from  the  window. 

"He  might/'  suggested  Guy,  "and  as  he  asked  for  a  priest,  I  am 
anxious  that  he  be  gratified,  if  he  again  becomes  conscious." 

"I  want  no  priest  around  me  when  I  shuffle  off  this  mortal  coil," 
said  Hamilton. 

"If  you  believed  as  Mr.  Trigg,  however,  you  would  give  much  for 
the  presence  of  a  priest.  While  I  would  not  desire  one,  I  have  full 
respect  for  the  views  of  the  religious.  To  gratify  them  is  one  of  the 
duties  we  owe  to  the  dying.  I  would  not  object  to  have  Father 
Ignacio  with  me  if  I  were  about  to  cross  the  dark  river,  not,  how- 
ever, on  account  of  his  priestly  office,  but  on  the  score  of  his  purity 
and  benevolence.  The  presence  of  such  men  doubtless  detracts  from 
the  terrors  supposed  to  be  marshalled  by  the  approach  of  death." 

"Here  he  is  now,"  said  Perry. 

Father  Ignacio  entered  the  apartment.  He  greeted  the  persons 
present  in  his  usual  genial  manner,  and  on  a  motion  from  Guy,  took 
the  latter's  seat  by  the  side  of  the  dying. 

He  felt  the  sufferer's  pulse,  then  gave  a  inquiring  glance  at  his 
young  friend. 

"You  know  what  to  do,  father,  so  go  ahead  and  do  it.     This 
my  old  friend  you  met  at  the  mission  after  the  fight." 

"The  same?" 

"The  same.     If  you  want  anything  of  us,  you  have  only  to  coi 
mand." 

"The  priest  took  out  his  book  and  turned  to  the  prayers  for  tl 
dying. 

Guy  stood  at  a  respectful  distance;  Hamilton  looked  indifferent; 
Nathan  was  agape  with  curiosity,  while  Perry  appeared  rather  awed 
by  the  devout  look  which  earnest  prayers  lent  to  the  features  of  the 
ghostly  pleader. 

The  tableau  remained  unchanged  until,  with  a  deep  drawn  sigh, 
Mr.  Trigg  elevated  his  knees  and  opened  his  eyes.  His  look  had  the 
expresson  which  mutely  owns  that  hope  has  fled  and  seems  to  plead ; 
for  what,  we  will  never  know  until  our  own  sands  of  life  are  all  but 
spent.  He  tried  to  speak,  but  failed.  He  tried  again  and  a  few  word? 
escaped  his  lips,  but  half  articulated.  Guy  went  to  his  assistam 
and  putting  his  arm  under  the  pillow,  elevated  his  head. 

The  change  was  fortunate. 

"This  is  the  praste  I  saw  at  the  mission  ?"  he  asked  slowly  of  Gi 


irds 

: 


GUT  EAYMOND.  419 

"It  is  he.     I  sent  for  him." 

"But  never  a  word  can  I  understand  that  he  will  be  saying." 

"I  am  here  to  interpret  for  you." 

"But  it  is  to  confess,  I  want.  Oh,  for  a  little  Irish  praste,  me 
boy!  It's  dying  I  am." 

Guy  told  Father  Ignacio  what  Mr.  Trigg's  trouble  was. 

Tell  him  to  say  the  Confiteor  and  to  confess  mentally  and  I  will 
give  him  absolution." 

Guy  interpreted. 

"I  don't  like  to,  but  a  praste  is  a  praste  the  world  over,  and  if  it's 
right,  it's  right." 

Mr.  Trigg  having  consented  to  the  mode  of  confession,  Father 
Ignacio  motioned  all  to  retire  to  the  other  side  of  the  room. 

In  a  few  moments  Mr.  Trigg  called  for  Guy. 

"Me  boy,  I  feel  I'm  sinking  fast  and  I  want  to  leave  things  in 
ship-shape.  Get  my  wallet,  Perry;  you  know  it;  it's  in  the  pocket — 
there; — that's  it.  Me  dear  boy,  I  wanted  to  live  to  see  you  enjoy  it, 
but  its  God's  will  I  shouldn't.  The  will  is  in  there.  It  leaves  all 
to  you  and  the  sister.  The  thing  that's  a  troubling  of  me  is  the 
paper  that  was  stole  in  the  camp  below.  It  might  be  a  fortune,  for  the 
old  man  set  a  great  store  on  it.  It  was  a  drawin'  of  an  island  and  a 
ship  and  marks  like  rings  and  a  bayou.  It  was  a  riddle  like  and 
had  to  be  made  out  by  another  paper  that  a  Portuguese  man  in  this 
town  was  supposed  to  have  and  didn't  know  the  value  of  it.  The  name 
was  there ;  it's  a  long  one  the  last  was,  and  the  first  was  Manoel." 

Guys'  interest  arose  as  Mr.  Trigg  progressed,  and  when  he  had 
finished,  he  said : 

"Do  not  worry  yourself  at  this  sad  time,  my  dear  friend,  with  any 
concern  in  my  regard.  Your  faith  teaches  you  that  these  moments 
are  sacred  to  religion,  and  your  heart  must  feel  that  they  are  precious 
to  friendship  stripped  of  all  sordid  motives,  all  ideas  of  gain  and  gold. 
Besides,  be  content  about  this  riddle,  for  I  have  botli  papers;  if  not 
the  originals,  they  are  certainly  copies." 

"I  am  proud  to  hear  it.  The  will  to  tell  you  kept  me  up,  and  now 
—I — feel  I'm  sinking.  Is  the  father  praying  for  me  ?" 

"He  is.  Be  brave,  my  dear  old  friend ;  Stella  and  I  will  ever  keep 
you  green  in  our  memories  as  our  dear  foster  father." 

"The  dear  child.  The  last  bit  of  a  present  I  sent  her  was  the 
medal  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  with  the  beautiful  bead  work,  that  must 
have  come  from  the  Indians.  Tell  her,  me  boy,  to  wear  it  and  our 
Good  Mother  will  be  good  to  her." 

"A  medal  with  a  beautiful  beadwork!"  said  Guy,  aside.  "It 
makes  me  think  of  one  I  lost;  the  gift  of  Laoni;  dear,  brave  Laoni." 


420  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"Tell  her  I  took  the  medal  from  a  Mexican  I  captured. 

"It's  going — I — am — ask  him  if  he  has  given  me  absolution — and 
if  he  has — God  bless  him.  Tell  him  its  Extreme  Unction  I  want. 
In  my  will  is  a  gift  to  any  church  of  our  Holy  religion.  It  will  rest 
with  ye  to  bestow  it;  and  for  this  praste's  kindness  be  liberal  with 
him." 

"Do  not  worry,  my  friend ;  Father  Ignacio  is  here  for  love  of  doing 
good.  I  will  see  that  your  wishes  are  carried  out." 

"You're  a  fine  boy,  ye  are.  How  dark  it  is !  Perry,  is  that  you  ? 
I  can  just  see  you.  You  have  done  your  duty  always.  Be  good  to 
Perry,  me  boy.  He's  young  to  be  in  the  army.  It  is — so — dark.  The 
riddle  is  in  the  pouch — two  papers — the  gunner  told  me — there's 
Lafitte — and — the — rest — show — the — Spanish  colors." 

The  dying  man's  mind  wandered  on,  his  words  becoming  unin- 
telligible until  at  last  there  remained  only  the  long,  heavy  respiration 
that  precedes  the  end. 

The  watchers  remained  until  the  last  gasp  signalled  the  flight  of 
the  spirit. 

CHAPTER  LVII. 

"Are  you  well  acquainted  with  the  island  ?" 

"I  know  it  as  well  as  any  lad  knows  the  lanes  and  by-paths  of  his 
native  village." 

"You  have  lived  here  long,  then  ?" 

"I  came  with  Lafitte.     Here  I  served  under  him  and  am  one 
the  useless  things  he  left  behind  when  he  set  sail  from  this  bay  for  the 
last  time." 

"Not  altogether  useless,  for  you  can  serve  me  by  your  informatioi 
and  earn  a  doubloon  for  your  pains." 

"I  never  object  to  pay — if  it  be  for  honest  work." 

"Honest  work?  Then  you  have  reformed  since  you  quit  the  life 
of  a  rover." 

"A  rover  may  be  honest.  I  worked  for  wages;  and  then  Lafitte 
preyed  only  upon  the  thieving  Spaniards." 

"After  all,  it  is  but  a  matter  of  conscience,  eh,  Josef  a  ?" 

This  conversation  occurred  in  a  curious  looking  apartment  which 
had  much  the  appearance  of  a  ship's  cabin,  and  evidently  had  been 
constructed  of  a  portion  of  one,  with  additions  of  material  to  make  up 
a  land  habitation  with  its  conveniences  for  lights,  ingress  and  egress, 
etc.  The  parties  participant  were  two  men,  one  tall  and  slender 
with  very  dark  complexion,  the  other  heavy  set,  of  medium  height 
and  grizzled  with  an  age  that  must  have  attained  the  vicinage  of  three 


- 

le 

. 

fe 

" 


GUY  KAYMOND.  421 

score.  The  last  party  addressed  was  a  woman,  a  description  of  whom 
would  have  apprised  the  reader  that  she  was  the  Senorita  de  la 
Torre,  if  the  dark  man,  who  was  no  other  than  Ducio  Half  en,  had 
not  called  her  Josef  a.  The  admission  of  the  other  party  disclosed 
his  character  as  well  as  his  ideas  of  the  morality  of  piracy  when  con- 
fined to  certain  victims.  Josefa  did  not  deign  a  reply  to  Ducio's 
inquiry,  but  sat  immobile  and  upright  on  the  opposite  side  of  a  table 
occupied  by  the  latter  and  his  male  companion,  and  upon  which  were 
a  few  papers  lying  near  an  inkstand  holding  a  goose-quill  pen. 

"Well,  to  business !     Your  name  is — 

"George." 

"George?" 

"George — 'the  pirate' — is  my  name  among  the  all  sorts  of  Gal- 
veston." 

"Well,  Mr.  George,  I  sent  for  you  to  make  some  inquiries.  There 
is  a  bayou  just  out  of  town — towards  the  gulf — that  makes  a  bend 
so  as  to  require  two  crossings  to  reach  the  beach  ?" 

"Unless  you  go  clean  around  the  bend." 

"But  in  a  straight  course?" 

"Then  you'd  have  to  cross  twice." 

"It  enters  the  gulf,  finally,  between  some  sand  hills." 

"Its  bound  to  if  it  enters  it  at  all,  as  there's  sand  hills  plum 
to  west  end." 

"Is  this  bayou  deep?" 

"It  is  shallow.  A  few  holes  may  be  over  a  man's  head,  but  aside 
from  them,  it  varies  from  one  to  four  feet  deep." 

"What  crossings,  if  any,  are  over  this  bayou  ?" 

"Two  rough  bridges  straight  out  from  this  wharf." 

"You  seem  to  be  pretty  well  posted.  Do  you  go  often  out  that 
way?" 

"Almost  every  day — a  fishing." 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  that,  for  we  expect  to  be  here  a  few  days,  and 
our  object  in  asking  you!  about  these  things  is  to  find  out  a  good 
place  for  a  little  sport  in  fishing/' 

"You  needn't  pay  a  doubloon  for  that,  for  two  months'  seining 
would  not  get  your  money  back." 

"We  do  not  care  for  the  money,  as  fortune  has  blessed  us  with  a 
plenty.  Here  is  your  fee,  and  if  you  allow  us  to  go  with  you  to- 
morrow we  will  explore  this  bayou  and  try  our  luck  at  fishing." 

"I  will  be  at  your  service,  sir." 

"Well,  then,  in  the  morning  as  soon  as  you  like  we  will  await 
your  coming." 


422  GUY  KAYMOND. 

"There  is  something  more  serious  than  fishing  in  his  looks 
questions/*  said  George,  as  he  passed  out  the  door  and  left  his  strange 
patrons  to  themselves. 

"Why  not  go  alone  in  this  business,  Ducio  ?     Why  engage  a  witm 
to  spy  at  every  movement  we  make?" 

"We  will  make  merely  a  casual  survey  tomorrow  morning;  th( 
by  ourselves,  we  can  follow  the  directions  of  the  paper  minutely.,  with 
no  eye  tq>  watch  us." 

"But  mere  suspicion  often  leads  to  dire  results.  Discovery  of  the 
deepest  laid  plans  is  often  predicated  upon  an  apparently  unimportant 
circumstance." 

"This  fellow  will  think  we  are  wealthy  people  who  merely  wish  a 
few  hours  sport." 

"But  the  direction  of  the  bayou  and  its  bends  and  crossings  have 
little  bearing  on  a  chance  desire  to  fish  for  sport.  Then  your  earnest 
question  about  the  sand  hills  told  of  a  reserve  interest  of  deeper  im- 
port than  a  fishing  tramp." 

"Josefa,  you  have  a  philosophic  bent  that  I  could  admire  if  it  were 
not  so  infernally  pessimistic.  This  is  a  season  for  the  bright  side  of 
things.  We  are  on  the  eve  of  fortune.  We  are  going  to  find : 

" ' An  iron  pot  with  an  iron  lid 
Beneath  the  cross  securely  hid! 
It 

"  'Holds  the  treasure  and  the  gold 
Captured  by  a  seaman  bold 
From  the  Spaniards'  ample  store 
And  buried  here  on  Galvez  shore/* 

"It  sounds  nice  enough,"  said  Josef  a,  with  a  yawn. 

When  Ducio  left  San  Antonio  in  company  with  Josefa  they 
elled  with  General  Almonte  and  his  escort.  The  general  had  left 
just  in  time  to  escape  capture  by  Euiz  on  the  night  Guy  Eaymond 
was  liberated  by  the  raiders.  Ducio  was  afraid  to  make  his  way 
through  the  country,  in  a  direct  course  to  the  island,  lest  he  should 
be  captured  and  detained  for  his  actions  in  Bexar.  He  therefore 
kept  with  Almonte's  party  until  he  reached  the  city  of  MatamoraF. 
Here  he  found  an  American  schooner  bound  for  Galveston,  and 
took  passage  for  himself  and  Josefa,  arriving  in  the  latter  place  the 
day  he  was  introduced,  at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter,  in  cons 
tation  with  the  pirate,  George. 

Early  the  next  morning  the  latter  made  his  appearance  with 
poles  and  tackle,  ready  for  the  fishing  tramp.  He  found  his  patrons 


the 

'""- 


GUT  EAYMOND.  423 

prepared  to  go,  and  the  trio  were  soon  on  their  way  towards  the  gulf. 

"You  haven't  heard  the  news,  have  you,  sir?"  said  George,  looking 
around  at  Ducio,  who  was  following  arm  in  arm  with  Josefa. 

"No.    What  may  it  be?"  asked  Ducio. 

"The  boys  have  taken  San  Antonio,"  replied  their  guide. 

"The  boys?" 

"The  Texans— the  colonists— the " 

"They  have?" 

"That's  what." 

"What  day  was  it  captured?" 

"On  the  seventh." 

"And  this  is  the  twelfth — five  days  ago.  Glad  we  were  away, 
eh,  Josefa?" 

"No  difference  to  me,"  she  replied.  "I  am  growing  indifferent 
to  everything." 

"To  me?" 

"I  said  everything." 

"True — I  am  a  person." 

"Dogmatically — so  is  the  devil,"  thought  Josefa. 

"This  sand  is  terrible  to  walk  in,"  she  complained,  as  the  white, 
yielding  substance  nearly  covered  her  instep. 

They  reached  the  first  bridge.  Ducio  surreptitiously  drew  forth 
a  paper  from  his  pocket,  and  consulted  it. 

"There  is  the"  bend  turning  towards  the  gulf,"  he  said  in  an 
undertone  to  his  companion. 

The  bayou  stretched  away  towards  the  northeast  for  a  quarter 
of  a  mile,  widening  into  quite  an  expanse  of  shallow  water,  then 
gradually  narrowing  to  the  eastward  and  southeastward  it  doubled 
on  its  course,  and  again  confronted  the  party,  about  four  bund  rod 
yards  distant,  where  the  second  bridge  led  to  the  sand  hills,  from 
over  whose  tops  the  steady  roar  of  I  IIP  surf  was  borne  inland  upon 
the  morning  breeze. 

"FTere  is  deep  sand  for  you,"  said  Ducio,  giving  Josefa  a  helping 
hand. 

At  Dncio's  suggestion  the  guide  arranged  their  fishing  tar-kip, 
each  of  the  party  taking  a  pole.  The  latter  remained  on  the  left 
hank,  while  the  couple  kept  the  right,  next  the  gulf,  and  throwing 
their  lines  in  the  stream  occasionally,  they  ^raduallv  made  their 
way  to  where  its  waters  divided  the  sand  hills  and  joined  the  ebb 
and  flow  of  the  breakers.  On  the  opposite  bank,  but  two  hundred 
van!-  a\vav.  ihe  more  deliberate  George  was  using  a  deal  of  patience, 
and  had  hcen  rewarded  by  ealehing  several  fine  redfish.  From  under 


424  GUY  RAYMOND. 

his  broad-brimmed  hat,  he  had  noticed  the  movements  of  the  sti 

and  mentally  concluded  that  fishing  was  farthest  from  their  thoughts. 

"See  here,  Josef  a,"  said  Ducio,  as  he  stood  on  the  highest  mound 
of  sand  near  him.  "Here  are  the  hills  of  sand — five  of  them.  Could 
anything  be  plainer?  One,  two,  three — one  and  two." 

"It  does  seem  to  correspond  with  that  paper,  but  I  cannot  make 
myself  believe  that  there  is  anything  in  it." 

"I  will  test  it  at  all  events — once  we  come  here  alone." 

"Don't  say  we — for  I  hate  this  sand  too  badly  to  come  again." 

"Everything  else  is  pleasant,  but  the  walking.  What  a  splendid 
day,  and  what  a  grand  sight  is  that  roaring  gulf,  with  its  blue 
expanse,  as  it  sends  those  foam-crested  lines  of  curling  water  in 
untiring  succession  upon  that  lovely  strand!" 

"You— sentimental !" 

"I  had  a  fellow  named  Hamilton  in  my  mind's  eye  when  I  said 
that.  He  was  full  of  pedantic  fanfaronade.  No,  not  I — sentiment 
is  for  fools  and  women." 

"And  rascality  for  dark-skinned  male  bipeds — like  you.  If  you 
are  convinced  that  women  deserve  to  be  classed  with  fools,  I  warn 
you  that  disaster  may  follow  the  conviction." 

"I  accept  notice,  Josefa,  and  except  you  from  my  sweeping 
assertion." 

"Come,  Ducio,  that  fellow  is  near,  and  seems  to  be  watching  us. 
If  youf  are  satisfied  with  the  appearance  of  things  here,  let  us  go 
back  and  not  spend  any  more  time  flourishing  these  stupid  poles." 

"Agreed;  but  we  will  walk  the  beach  until  we  get  opposite  the 
road  to  town.  Let  us  inform  Mr.  George  that  we  will  dispense  with 
his  services  for  the  present." 

The  guide  was  accordingly  dismissed,  with  an  intimation  that 
he  would  be  apprised,  should  his  services  be  needed  again,  and  the 
pair  walked  with  slow  pace  the  faultless  level  of  the  beach,  alternately 
commenting  upon  its  singular  beauty,  and  debating  the  best  method 
of  disposing  of  the  treasure  which  they  expected  to  find  hidden 
the  hills  on  their  left. 

When  evening  came  Ducio  consoled  himself  that  he  had  perfected 
every  arrangement  for  the  successful  removal  of  the  treasure,  should 
he  find  it.  Unknown  to  even  Josefa,  he  had  repaired  to  the  locality 
in  the  afternoon,  and  having  run  the  lines  indicated  from  hill  to 
hill,  he  had  carefully  marked  the  intersection  so  that  he  could  find, 
by  the  light  of  the  moon,  the  spot  he  wished  to  examine.  So  great 
was  his  curiosity,  and  his  desire  to  possess  it,  he  could  scarcely 


GUT  EAYMOND.  425 

refrain  from  running  the  risk  of  discovery,  by  at  once  commencing 
to  dig  for  the  contents  of  the  pot. 

But  one  light  wagon  could  be  procured  in  the  little  town,  and 
this  Ducio  secured  with  difficulty,  under  the  pretense  of  taking  a 
moonlight  drive  upon  the  beach. 

When  the  tardy  moon  peeped  from  below  the  waters  of  the 
gulf  and  had  cast  a  line  of  flashing  silver  upon  its  bosom,  Ducio, 
with  his  nervy  friend,  Josef  a,  seated  in  the  vehicle,  was  urging  his 
only  half  willing  horse  through  deep  sand  beyond  the  second  bridge. 

"I  came  near  forgetting  it,"  said  Ducio,  stopping  the  animal  and 
jumping  lightly  out. 

He  ran  back  to  the  bridge  and  inserting  his  hand  under  the 
first  planks  he  drew  out  a  short  spade,  and  brought  it  to  the  wagon. 

"''You  see,  I  thought  of  everything,"  he  said. 

"A  villain  is  never  lost  for  resources." 

"  Thank  you,  Josef  a.  As  you  are  to  profit  by  this  villainy,  you 
are  therefore  particeps  criminis." 

At  last  the  wagon  stopped,  and  Ducio  leaping  out,  bade  Josefa 
remain  seated  until  he  hunted  for  his  mark.  He  disappeared  over 
the  first  sandhill,  and  after  several  minutes  returned  to  find  Josefa 
alarmed  at  an  apparition. 

'•What  was  it?"  he  demanded. 

*It  looked  like  a  human  figure  crawling  on  all  fours.  It  went 
over  the  sandhill  next  to  the  one  you  crossed." 

"It  must  be  an  illusion." 

Ducio,  discovering  nothing  that  would  answer  Josefa's  description 
of  the  creeping  form,  returned  to  the  wagon,  helped  out  his  com- 
panion, secured  his  spade  and  went  to  work. 

He  toiled  for  an  hour  before  he  could  get  a  hole  of  any  consid- 
erable size  to  remain  open.  The  dry  sand  would  yield  to  the 
universal  claim  of  gravitation,  and  fill  up  almost  as  fast  as  he  could 
excavate.  At  lasft,  learning  the  secret  of  correct*  procedure,  he 
cleared  away  several  feet  of  the  dry  sand  around  the  center  of  the 
objective  point.  The  damp  layer  underneath  allowed  a  narrower 
hole  to  be  dug  and  the  sweating  operator  began  to  realize  that  he 
was  making  some  progress.  Frequent  rests  had  to  be  taken  to 
recover  from  the  unusual  .exertion.  Josefa  grew  impatient  as  the 
time  began  to  grow  into  hours,  and  was  about  to  express  her  con- 
viction for  the  third  or  fourth  time  of  the  quixotic  aspect  of  their 
expedition,  when  the  spade  struck  a  hard  substance  that  caused  a 
riiii:,  as  if  from  colliding  metals.  The  digger  could  not  restrain  an 
<\\',\c. illation  of  delight  that  rang  strangely  out  upon  the  night  air 


426  GUY  EAYMOND. 

in  almost  the  key  of  a  shout.  He  dug  more  vigorously  than  ever, 
and  springing  into  the  hole,  he  rapidly  cleared  away  the  sand  with 
his  fingers.  On  he  toiled,  stimulated  by  intense  excitement,  with 
Josefa  watching  from  above,  less  demonstrative,  but  sharing  with 
her  companion  the  strange  emotions  engendered  by  the  occasion, 
which  seemed  to  promise  a  realization  of  a  long  fostered  hope. 
Having  at  length  cleared  the  compact  sand  from  around  the  pot, 
he  raised  the  lid  and,  inserting  his  hand,  found  a  covering  which 
felt  like  oilcloth.  This  he  tore  away  impatiently,  when  his  fingers 
came  in  contact  with  the  contents  which  gave  unmistakable  evidence 
of  being  cold,  damp  coins.  A  chuckle  came  to  the  lips  of  Ducio, 
at  the  same  moment  that  a  gruff,  but  earnest  voice  addressed  Josefa. 

"I  was  passing  on  the  beach  and  thought  I  heard  a  cry  of  distress 
a  few  moments  ago,  and  came  to  see  what  it  meant." 

Josefa  gave  a  slight  scream  as  her  eyes  caught  sight  of  a  heavy 
form  standing  almost  over  her,  and  her  first  idea  connected  the  new- 
comer with  the  creeping  figure  of  two  or  three  hours  before. 

Ducio  sprang-  from  the  hole  and  confronted  the  man,  while  he 
secretly  damned  himself  for  the  indiscreet  shout  when  the  clink  of 
iron  against  steel  gave  evidence  of  treasure  trove. 


CHAPTEE  LVIII. 

In  a  cozy  apartment  overlooking  from  a  second  story  elevation 
a  narrow  street  of  a  city,  from  which  arose  the  din  of  rolling  wheels 
and  the  hum  of  metropolitan  life,  were  two  females.  One,  a  lady, 
attired  in  a  morning  wrapper,  was  before  a  mirror,  passing  a  comb 
through  her  hair,  which  fell  in  abundant  tresses  far  below  her 
shoulders.  The  other,  a  girl  in  her  teens,  her  development  suggesting 
a  budding  womanhood,  stood  at  the  casement  overlooking  the  world 
below.  Through  the  slightly  open  sash  floated  in  vagrant  shreds 
of  vapor  from  the  mass  of  fog  whose  isothermal  veil  enveloped  the 
city.  Across  the  street  the  brick  walls  and  iron-railed  verandas  of 
the  buildings  met  the  view,  extending  to  a  corner,  where  a  broad 
avenue  crossed  at  right  angles.  Over  a  door  of  the  corner  building, 
in  distinct  letters  to  indicate  the  name  of  the  thoroughfare,  were 
the  words  ffE,ue  Royale."  If  one  had  peeped  around  the  corner  by 
the  same  character  of  sign  he  would  have  been  apprised  of  the  fact 
that  the  broad  avenue  was  Canal  street. 

The  two  occupants  of  the  cozy  room  had  been  silent  for  many 
minutes,  the  lady  proceeding  with  her  toilet  in  the  most  careful 


GUY  EAYMOND.  42? 

manner,,  the  girl  watching  with  apparent  interest,  what  could  be 
seen  in  the  street,  when  the  former  suddenly  remarked: 

"Stella,  I  would  not  remain  under  that  open  sash.  If  you 
intend  to  keep  that  position  long  you  had  better  lower  it.  If  you 
would  profit  by  your  short  holiday  you  should  be  careful  not  to  take 
cold.  I  declare!  How  dark  it  is  getting!  I  certainly  will  have 
to  light  the  gas  if  it  grows  much  darker.  Whenever  I've  come  to 
New  Orleans  it  has  always  been  in  a  fog,  but  it  is  a  dear  old  town. 
for  all  that,  and  I  am  willing  to  forgive  its  damp  and  darkness 
and  fog  and  all  other  objectionable  features,  for  its  gaieties  and 
pleasures.  When  we  got  in  last  night  it  was  raining  torrents.  J 
do  hope  it  will  clear  up  now  for  a  while.  Dear  mo!  Til  ligbt  the 
gas.  Now,  I  can  see  myself.  I  suppose  the  Mother  Superior  was 
half  inclined  to  refuse  to  let  you  come  out.  She  was  cross  as  could 
be  the  last  time.  I  don't  blame  the  poor  things,  though,  for  I 
should  be  cross  all  the  time  if  I  had  to  be  shut  up  in  a  nun  IK  TV, 
with  death  only  as  a  prospect  for  release.  My  hair  is  absolutely 
rebellious  this  morning.  By  the  way,  Stella,  when  did  you  hear 
from  Guy?" 

"Only  once  since  I  last  wrote  to  you." 

"Has  he  fully  recovered  from  the  wound  he  received  at  the 
battle  of  San  Jacinto?" 

"He  has;  but  it's  healing  was  very  slow.  For  months  it  was 
painful  and  obstinate,  and  yielded  only  to  an  Indian  remedy  which 
he  had  seen  the  Lipans  use  while  he  was  a  prisoner." 

"When  does  the  young  gentleman  propose  to  pay  you  a  visit? 
I  think  he  must  have  lost  his  love  for  us.  It  would  do  him  good 
to  catch  one  more  glimpse  of  civilization." 

"Auntie,  Guy  has  had  his  hands  full.  All  of  his  interests  de- 
manded that  he  should  assist  in  gaining  the  independence  of  Texas, 
and  since  the  Mexicans  have  been  driven  out,  his  wound  first-.  Him 
other  matters,  kept  him  from  the  undoubted  pleasure  of  a  visit  to  us." 

"I  cannot  see  what  you  could  name  under  the  head  of  other 
matters." 

"You  forget,  Aunty,  that  our  parents'  bodies  had  to  be  removed 
to  a  more  appropriate  burial  place,  and  the  remains  of  Mr.  Trigg, 
our  second  father,  he  had  placed  beside  them.  In  a  country  like 
Texas  this  alone  was  a  tedious  undertaking." 

"You  are  doubtless  right,  my  child.  It  is  a  country  of  barbarous 
Mexicans  and  savage  Indians,  and  will  never  amount  to  much  until 
they  are  exterminated.  By  the  way,  you  remember  the  Indian  girl 
that  your  uncle  brought  from  Texas  after  the  fight  of  the  San  Saba, 


428  GUY  EATMOND. 

I  believe  he  called  it?  Well,  he  left  her  with  a  family  in  Grand 
Coteau,  with  means  to  pay  for  her  schooling  in  the  convent  of  that 
place.  She  was  placed  in  the  convent,  as  you  have  doubtless  heard, 
and  made  wonderful  progress,  developing  the  greatest  aptness  in 
every  study.  Of  course,  when  your  poor  uncle  died  so  suddenly 
there  was  no  provision  made  for  her  continuance  at  the  convent, 
and  she  was  taken  out  by  her  guardian.  The  family,  instead  of 
treating  her  as  an  equal,  made  her  a  servant,  piling  up  menial  duties 
for  her  performance,  until  the  girl  left  them,  going  they  know  not 
where.  When  I  first  heard  of  her  quitting  the  convent,  I  had  a 
notion  to  send  for  her,  and  make  her  a  companion,  just  for  the 
novelty  of  the  thing.  It  would  have  been  a  decided  nouveaute." 

"I  do  not  think  I  can  ever  bear  the  sight  of  an  Indian  again. 
The  very  name  brings  up  the  only  horrible  picture  of  my  past," 
said  Stella,  with  a  shudder,  as  the  scene  on  the  banks  of  the  Salado 
rose  in  her  mind. 

"But  this  girl,  it  seems,  has  proven  to  be  above  the  standard. 
I  am  so  sorry  I  did  not  write  for  her  before  she  disappeared.  See, 
child,  if  my  petticoat  hangs.  Now,  pin  my  collar  behind  and  we 
will  go  down  to  the  parlor.  I  am  expecting  a  caller  at  ten  and 
have  an  appointment  with  my  commission  merchant  at  eleven.  Oh, 
me !  What  a  time  a  woman  has  with  agents  and  merchants.  Widow- 
hood imposes  a  burden,  my  child;  yet  there  is  a  charm  about  it 
which  maidens  may  never  experience." 

Not  many  blocks  away  from  the  Rue  Royale,  and  towards  the 
levee,  a  low  frame  building,  .occupying  one  corner  of  two  inter- 
secting streets,  bore  a  sign  upon  its  front  which  could  be  seen  plainly 
from  the  levee,  and  read: 

"Sailors'  Saloon  and  Cafe." 

The  place  had  a  sort  of  inviting  look  for  the  characters  who 
frequented  it.  Under  the  wide  awning  which  spanned  the  sidewalk 
were  armchairs  and  benches,  upon  which  the  off  duty  sailors  and 
workers  of  the  levee  could  comfortably  pose  while  they  would  spin 
yarns  or  gossip  about  questions  local  or  foreign.  It  was  not  a  place 
having  claims  to  any  great  degree  of  respectability,  nor  was  it  yet 
of  the  character  of  the  lower  dives  of  the  Crescent  City.  The  present 
owner  had  run  the  establishment  for  several  months,  during  which 
time  there  was  no  lack  of  custom,  and  many  a  time  the  gossips  of 
the  chairs  and  benches  had  discanted  on  the  probable  savings  of 
George,  the  proprietor.  His  other  name  was  not  known  to  the 
frequenters,  and  hence  the  saloon  was  designated  by  them 
"George's." 


GUY  RAYMOND.  429 

George  was  an  easy-going  fellow,  heavy-set  and  grizzly,  and 
judging  from  his  dialect  and  manner,  had  followed  the  sea  in  former 
years.  He  never  would  say  much  about  his  past  life,  except  on 
certain  occasions  when,  half  seas  over,  he  would  make  reference  to 
his  sailor's  life  and  brag  about  being  a  subaltern  under  the  noted 
pirate  of  the  gulf.  These  allusions,  uttered  rather  incoherently, 
were  treated  as  the  vaporings  of  a  rum-befuddled  brain,  with  perhaps 
some  possible  tincture  of  truth  for  a  groundwork.  He  might  have 
been  a  follower  of  Lafitte,  and  this  was  believed  by  some  who  knew 
that  George  had  paid  a  handsome  sum  in  gold  to  get  possession  of 
his  present  premises. 

The  afternoon  of  the  day  that  Mrs.  Raymond  told  Stella  she  had 
an  appointment  with  her  merchant  at  eleven  o'clock,  the  front  of 
George's  cafe  had  a  good  complement  of  loungers,  the  weather 
having  faired  and  the  temperature  more  suitable  for  the  season 
of  early  fall  than  the  month  of  December.  Gossip,  for  the  nonce, 
appeared  to  have  been  ignored,  and  a  species  of  indolence  prevailed 
to  make  more  impressive  the  puffs  of  curling  smoke  emitted  from  the 
lips  of  the  smokers. 

The  quiet  of  the  cafe  was  destined  to  be  disturbed  from  an 
unexpected  source.  The  attention  of  the  corner  was  attracted  by  the 
furious  approach  of  a  pair  of  powerful  horses  attached  to  an  open 
carriage,  while  the  driver  was  making  strenuous  efforts  to  hold  them 
in.  Beside  him  sat  a  lady,  who  was  vainly  attempting  to  assist  her 
companion,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  On  thundered  the  mad  team, 
until  it  neared  the  corner.  Along  the  street  all  eyes  had  been  fixed 
upon  the  carriage,  but  none  dared  to  attempt  to  arrest  the  runaways. 
Seated  at  the  cafe  was  an  individual  of  an  appearance  very 
dissimilar  from  the  rest  of  the  assemblage,  and  who  was  evidently 
unknown  to  them,  as  he  had  been  the  target  for  many  a  curious 
look  since  he  had  taken  a  seat.  He  was  long  and  lean  and  awkward, 
and  though  elothed  in  decent  enough  apparel,  it  had  either  the 
demerit  of  a  had  fit,  or  the  misfortune  to  cover  a  form  of  ungainly 
proportions  and  sharp  angles. 

When  the  flying  horses  were  almost  upon  them,  and  the  crowd 
stood  with  bated  breath,  as  if  waiting  the  tragical  end,  the  awkward 
Granger  sprang  to  the  center  of  the  street,  and  as  the  mad  animals 
came  near  abreast,  by  a  bold  and  dexterous  dash  he  seized  the  nearer 
one  by  the  head  gear  with  both  hands,  and  swinging  with  their' great 
momentum  he  fastened  himself  upon  its  neck  with  the  tenacity  of 
a,  tiger.  To  rein  their  heads  sharply  together  was  the  work  of  the 
next  moment,  and  within  two  hundred  feet  from  where  he  first 


430  GUT  KAYMOND. 

seized  them,  the  panting  animals  came  to  a  stand  with  their  fearl 
captor  at  their  heads. 

The  man  alighted  from  the  vehicle,,  and  helping  out  his  com- 
panion, he  accosted  his  rescuer: 

"I  owe  you  much,  sir,  for  this,  and  am  willing  to  reward  you 
by  any  amount  in  reason/' 

The  individual  thus  addressed  replied  with  a  tone  akin  to  con- 
tempt : 

"You  don't  owe  me  a  cent,  sir,  'cept  it  a  ben  yer  thanks,  which 
yer  didn't  give  and  which  I  don't  want." 

"Excuse  me;  I  should  have  added  thanks— but  in  my  excite- 
ment  " 

"No  use  a  mouthin'  'bout  it  now.  Yer  look  mighty  like  a  French 
feller  I  saw  in  Texas,  and  if  yer  is  as  mean  as  him,  yer  wouldn't 
pay  no  more  than  yer'd  thank.  I'm  glad  I  saved  the  lady." 

So  saying  the  gallant  fellow  elbowed  his  way  through  the  crowd 
which  now  thronged  the  street,  and  made  his  way  back  to  George's. 
Here  he  was  quite  a  hero  and  was  compelled  to  enter  the  cafe  in 
order  to  escape  the  praises  of  the  populace. 

The  fancied  asylum  soon  proved  no  barrier  to  the  public  demon- 
stration. George,  with  an  eye  to  business,  encouraged  the  entrance 
of  the  crowd,  and  led  off,  himself,  in  a  general  treat,  in  honor  of 
the  hero  of  the  hour.  The  latter's  remonstrances  against  the  magni- 
fication of  a  simple  act  into  a  heroic  deed,  were  lost  upon  the  mob, 
if  they  were  indeed  audible,  further  than  a  phrase  or  two,  above 
the  din  and  disorder  of  the  cafe. 

"You're  a  hero  in  spite  of  yourself,  man.  It's  no  use — you'll 
have  to  give  in  and  treat  the  boys  in  turn,"  said  George. 

"Them  that's  makin'  such  a  hurrah  over  nothin'  is  the  fellers 
to  treat  if  they  wants  treatin.'  I  ain't  got  the  money  'twould  take 
to  satisfy  this  'ere  crowd." 

"You  won't  lack  the  money,  man,  if  you  will  draw  on  the  fellow 
whose  life  you've  saved.  They're  a  rich  couple — Half  en  and  his 
wife,"  said  George. 

"Halfen!  Tho't  I  knowed  him;  tho'  he  don't  'pear  as  sneakin' 
as  he  did  in  San  Antone." 

"Come,  man,  if  you  know  him,  all  the  better.     Set  'em  up/ 
urged  the  proprietor,   "and  I  will  take  your  order  on   Halfen 
payment.    I'll  get  the  money." 

"Stranger!"  exclaimed  the  other  emphatically.  "Ef  you  don'i 
want  to  rile  me,  jes'  stop  yer  clatter  on  treatin.'  Ye'll  git  no  orders 


GUY  EAYMOND.  431 

from  me  on  nobody,  and  leastways  on  a  feller  that  didn't  thank  me 
fer  savin'  his  wife's  neck." 

With  this  admonition,  Nathan — for  it  was  he — turned  abruptly 
from  the  counter  and  left  the  cafe. 

He  had  only  arrived  in  the  city  that  morning,  en  route  to  his 
home  on  the  Arkansas,  and  his  intention  was  to  spend  a  few  days 
in  the  Southern  metropolis,  in  the  enjoyment  of  its  sights,  as  a 
kind  of  antithesis  to  the  experiences  of  his  arduous  Texan  campaign. 
Nathan's  steps  led  him  along  until  without  a  consciousness  of  the 
particular  locality  he  found  himself  on  the  broad  flags  of  Canal 
street.  The  afternoon  was  pleasant,  and  the  avenue  was  filled 
with  gaily  dressed  women,  entering  and  leaving  the  shops  and 
stores — now  crowded  with  stocks  of  holiday  goods.  Nathan's  awk- 
ward figure  passed  in  and  out  of  throngs  of  grace  and  beauty,  and 
evoked  many  a  smiling  look  as  wonder  and  curiosity  asserted  them- 
selves in  a  countenance  on  which  the  surroundings  had  implanted 
an  exaggerated  verdancy. 

He  paused  before  a  large  show  window  and  gazed  intently  upon 
its  artistically  arranged  contents.  Stuffed  representations  of  birds 
and  a  few  of  the  smaller  wild  animals  were  placed  upon  perches, 
around  the  central  figure,  which  was  that  of  an  Indian  chief,  in 
feathers  and  war-paint.  Nathan's  eyes  became  rivited  upon  the 
Indian.  He  studied  the  outlines  and  toggery  with  the  eye  of  a 
connoisseur,  for  if  he  was  familiar  with  anything  it  was  with  Indian 
character  and  dress.  His  first  idea  upon  beholding  the  mute  figure 
was  that  a  real  chief  was  posing  inside  the  glass,  and  he  instinct- 
ively gave  the  gutteral  ejaculation  of  the  Lipans,  indicative  of 
surprise : 

"Hish-to-wa!" 

To  his  astonishment  a  soft  voice  at  his  elbow,  in  the  same 
dialect,  replied: 

"An  Indian — but  not  a  Lipan." 

On  looking  around,  Nathan  beheld  a  young  woman,  plainly 
dressed,  also  contemplating  the  figure  in  the  window.  Her  complexion 
was  dark  almost  as  the  average  Indian.  Her  features  were  delicate 
and  regular  and  wore  a  placid,  almost  sad,  expression.  As  the  back- 
woodsman turned,  their  eyes  met,  and  his  first  words  were: 

"You— a  Lipan?" 

"A  Lipan?    Yes.     How  did  you  learn  their  words?" 

"I  1m v<!  fit  them  on  the  Trinity,  and  they  had  me  a  pris'ner  for 
a  year.  What  yer  doin'  in  Orleans?" 

"I  am  a  prisoner'.     I  was  captured  when  our  village  was  burned 


432  GUY  EAYMOND. 


and  have  been  in  the  Convent  at  Grand  Coteau.  The  sisters  treated 
me  like  their  child,  and  taught  me  from  the  books  of  the  white 
people.  The  friend,  who  put  me  in  the  school,  died  and  I  had  to 
become  a  nun  or  leave.  I  chose  to  leave,  and  now  I  find  myself  in 
this  big  city  without  friends,  and  my  only  hope  is  to  find  a  place 
where  I  can  earn  my  bread." 

"Yer/11  never  do  it.  An  Injun  must  hear  the  owl  hoot  and  the 
birds  sing.  Fm  too  much  like  yer  sort,  myself,  to  live  in  this  here 
town.  There  ain't  no  elbow  room,  and  a  feller  is  cooped  up  and 
lost  Amongst  thousands.  No,  yer'll  never  do  it,  my  girl." 

"I  may  never  be  happy,  but  I  must  do  something.  On  the  prairies, 
if  there  was  no  one  else  to  call  upon,  I  could  bring  down  a  deer  or 
an  antelope.  Here  if  one  has  not  silver  or  gold  she  must  work  for 
others  to  keep  up  life." 

"I  hain't  much  money,  but  I  could  spare  you  a  trifle,"  said 
Nathan  generously.  „ 

"Thank  you,  sir.  I  am  not  begging,,  and  will  be  able  to  do 
without  assistance,  I  hope,  until  I  find  employment.  I  was  told  that 
there  was  an  intelligence  office  near,  where  one  could  find  out  the 
people  who  want  help." 

"Mebbe  so,"  said  Nathan  abstractedly,  as  he  continued  to  gaze 
in  the  window.  ,  ,  , 

The  woman  eyed  him  curiously  for  a  moment.  He  had  fought 
her  people,  he  had  said.  His  air  was  more  natural  than  that  pos- 
sessed by  the  hurrying  crowd,  bent  on  some  fixed  purpose,  who  looked 
neither  to  the  right  or  left,  heedless  of  her  presence,  and  ignorant 
of  the  emotions  which  swelled  her  bosom.  He  had  been  upon  the 
Trinity  and  probably  in  the  valley  of  the  Colorado.  Possibly  he 
might  know.  She  would  find  out.  Nathan  was  about  to  turn  away 
when  she  asked : 

"You  have  been  upon  the  Trinity?" 

"I  have,  for  a  fact." 

"And  in  the  valley  of  the  Colorado?" 

"There  too." 

"Did  you  know  a  youth — just  grown,  fair  as  a  lily,  unless 
the  sun  had  browned  his  white  skin,  and — 

"Mebbe  so,"  answered  Nathan. 

"His  height  about  equalled  yours,  and  when  he  walked,  there 
was  a  nobleness  in  his  movements  which  suited  well  the  bravery  of 
his  heart." 

"A  fine  feller  that!?  His  height  was  like  mine,  and  you  say  he 


GUY  RAYMOND.  433 

walked  like  me?"  said  Nathan,,  straightening  up  and  taking  a  step 
or  two. 

"He  was  a  prisoner  to  our  tribe,  and  I — I  saved  his  life  when 
they  would  have  burned  him.  Oh,  sir!  Have  you  heard  of  such 
a  youth?" 

"Didn't  the  chap  have  any  name?" 

"With  us  he  was  El  Bravo;  with  his  own  people  his  name  was 
Guy." 

"He  got  away  from  you?" 

"He  escaped  with  my  assistance/'*1 

"There  is  a  lot  of  the  boys  comin'  over  from  the  war,  and 
if  I  find  out  where  yer  youth  is,  I'll  let  yer  know.  I'll  come  to  this 
place  Monday  'bout  this  time,  ef  yer  kin  meet  me  then." 

"I   will   conic.     Your  name  is?" 

"Nathan  Eoach.     And  yours?" 


CHAPTER   LIX. 

len  Beatrice's  father  determined  to  send  her  to  New  Orleans 
to  remain,  rending  the  existence  of  danger  from  Mexican  invasion 
and  the  consequent  capture  of  San  Antonio,  Guy  felt  keenly  the 
pain  of  prospective  separation.  He  very  sensibly  concluded,  however, 
that  it  WHS  a  judicious  resolve  of  Don  Juan's,  and  when  he  bade 
good-bye  to  his  lady  love  lie  placed  in  her  hands  a  letter  to  Stella, 
in  which  he  urged  his  sister  to  become  well  acquainted  and  friendly 
to  one  who  was  destined  to  be  his  wife.  'Boa-trice  had  promptly 
presented  this  letter  on  her  arrival  in  the  Crescent  City,  and  became 
a  frequent  visitor  to  the  convent  where  Stella  was  prosecuting  her 
studies.  Occasionally  the  latter  would  spend  the  greater  part  of  a 
holiday  with  her  future  sister-in-law,  so  that  in  due  time  they 
became  intimate  friends  and  very  nearly  confidants. 

The  morning  after  Mrs.  Raymond  had  put  in  execution  her 
intention  to  call  upon  her  agent,  Stella  was  in  her  aunt's  apart- 
ment on  Rue  Royale,  awaiting  a  promised  call  from  Beatrice.  Mrs. 
Raymond  had  gotten  through  her  toilet  with  less  difficulty  than 
usual  and,  radiant  in  jewels  and  powder,  had  gone  to  call  upon  a 
lady  boarder  in  the  same  house  in  which  she  was  stopping. 

Stella    was    engaged   in   the  inspection   of  a  lot   of  ribbons   and 
,   a  contribution  to  her  box  from   the  castaway  portion  of  her 
aunt's    finery.      These   she   sorted   and   wrapped   carefully   in   tissue 
,  placing  them  in  the  pretty  box  on  the  table  with  a  care  and 


434:  GUY  RAYMOND. 


exactitude  that  suggested  her  employment  might  be  more  to  kill 
time  than  adopted  ex  necesitate  rei. 

Beatrice's  knock,  and  inquiry  if  she  could  enter,  cut  short  her 
further  care  of  her  ribbons,  and  the  two  were  soon  chatting  in  their 
usual  confidential  manner. 

"Guy  writes  that  we  may  expect  him  any  day  from  now  until 
New  Year/7  said  Beatrice,  the  pleasure  of  the  announcement  beaming 
from  her  eyes. 

"Why  could  he  not  have  been  more  definite?  It  is  just  awful 
not  to  know  on  what  day  to  look  for  him/'  said  Stella  half  petu- 
lantly. 

"The  schooners  leave  irregularly,  and  that?  may  be  half  the 
reason." 

"You  are  too  ready  to  excuse  him,  Beatrice.  Just  think  how 
long  it  has  been  since  I've  seen  him." 

"Oh,  Stella!  I  have  engaged  the  services  of  a  maid,  and  she 
is  to  report  for  duty  tomorrow,  if  not  this  afternoon.  You  should 
see  her.  She  is,  I  believe,  a  pure  Indian,  but  much  brighter  than 
those  I  have  seen." 

"Gracious!     A  pure  Indian?" 

"Oh!  But  she  is  nice  and  real  pretty.  Her  features  are  perfect, 
and  she  is  as  lady-like  in  her  manner  and  tone  as  a  society  belle." 

"You  can  make  her  a  companion  then.     How  did  you  find  her?" 

"At  the  intelligence  office.  She  has  just  come  from  a  convent. 
Her  patron  who  was  educating  her  ceased  to  send  her  tuition,  I 
think  she  said,  and  she  left  the  convent  to  seek  employment.  I 
did  not  ask  of  her  a  full  explanation.  I  am  delighted  with  her." 

"I  congratulate  you;  but  I  hope  brother  won't  fall  in  love  with 
the  pretty  maid." 

"Why,  Stella!" 

"But  she  is  such  a  paragon." 

"Well — if  he  so  elects.  I  would  not .  inarry  him  without  his 
preference  above  all  the  world." 

Beatrice  grew  a  trifle  serious  as  she  said  this,  and  turned  her 
gaze  out  the  window.  A  tremor  passed  through  her,  with  a  name- 
less emotion  that  could  have  arisen  from  the  recall  of  a  memory, 
shadowed  by  sadness,  or  a  prescience  whose  intuition  weaved  about 
the  future  the  mists  of  dread.  Could  the  morning's  contact  with 
Laoni  have  charged  her  being  with  the  magnetism  of  a  common 
sympathy,  to  be  awakened  into  activity  by  Stella's  chance  remark? 
Perhaps — for  in  the  human  organism,  who  would  prescribe  the  bounds 
of  its  sentient  dualism? 


GUY  RAYMOND.  435 

The  entrance  of  Mrs.  Raymond  awakened  Beatrice  from  her 
dream-like  mood,  as  well  as  avoided  a  return  to  the  topic  which  had 
caused  it.  She  had  met  Guy's  fiancee  shortly  after  the  latter's  arrival 
in  New  Orleans,  the  year  previous,  and  on  the  several  occasions  of 
her  subsequent  trips  to  the  city.  Her  future  niece  had  inspired  her 
with  her  beauty,  but  she  secretly  informed  Stella  that  she  could  not 
comprehend  why  her  brother  should  choose  a  Mexican  wife.  Mrs. 
Raymond's  ideas  of  love  and  marriage  were  peculiar.  With  her, 
wedded  life  was  a  woman's  refuge  after  she  became  sated  with  what 
she  termed  the  pleasures  of  single  life.  Love  but  typified  a  sexual 
instinct  and,  with  well-balanced  minds,  always  accommodated  itself 
to  the  environments  of  convenience  and  policy.  As  to  Guy's  par- 
ticular case,  the  aunt  had  informed  Stella  that  she  had  contem- 
plated with  much  pleasure  the  selection  of  a  mate  for  her  handsome 
brother.  It  was  an  assumed  duty,  but  one  that  half  way  devolved 
upon  her  when  their  parents  were  taken  from  them. 

Whatever  prevailed  in  Beatrice's  manner  or  disposition  to  mark 
a  departure  from  conventional  American  characteristics  appeared  to 
be  a  charm,  in  Stella's  judgment,  and  she  therefore  defended  her 
brother's  choice,  whenever  her  aunt  hinted  at  a  mesalliance  on  the 
score  of  Beatrice's  nationality. 

Mrs.  Raymond's  greeting  was  marked  by  an  outward  show  of 
affection,  the  caution  with  which  she  received  Beatrice's  kiss  arising 
simply  from  her  concern  lest  the  contact  of  the  latter's  lips  should 
spoil  the  artistic  smoothness  of  her  powder. 

"Tell  aunt  Ida  about  your  new  maid,  Beatrice,"  said  Stella, 
after  the  first  flow  of  words  from  Mrs.  Raymond  had  somewhat 
abated. 

"A  new  maid !" 

"Or  a  companion,"  suggested  Beatrice. 

"She  is  an  Indian,"  said  Stella. 

"You  are  having  fun  at  my  expense.  You  have  been  discussing 
what  I  said  yesterday  about  my  poor  brother's  protege.  I  was  in 
earnest,  however,  and  if  I  could  find  this  Indian  girl  I  should  certainly 
take  her  for  a  companion  or  maid,  just  as  she  would  fit  the  one  or  the 
other  position." 

"To  tell  the  truth,  my  dear  aunt,  I  did  not  for  once  recall 
our  conversation,  and  I  wonder  that  I  did  not,  since  Beatrice  has 
discovered  just  such  a  girl,  and  from  a  convent." 

"An  Indian?" 

"An  Indian,"  said  Beatrice,  towards  whom  Mrs.  Raymond  had 
looked  for  a  reply. 


ntv  tliis 


436  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"Where  did  you  see  her?" 

"At  an  intelligence  office  on  Conti  street." 

"And  she  is  now ?" 

"I  left  her  there,  she  having  promised  to  report  for  duty 
afternoon  or  tomorrow." 

"I  must  see  this  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Raymond,  "and  if  she  is  my 
brother's  protege  from  the  convent  of  Grand  Coteau,  you  will  have 
to  relinquish  your  claim  to  her,  Beatrice,  for  I  had  decided  to  make 
a  search  for  this  girl  and  add  her  to  my  train." 

"But  my  contract  with  her?" 

"Is  null   and  void — if  she  is  the  girl  I  mean." 

"Verily,  an  arbitrary  decision,"  said  Beatrice  half  laughing,  yet 
half  vexed. 

"No;  a  principle  of  usage." 

"Was  there  ever  such   a  precedent,  Aunt  Ida?"  queried   Stella. 

"I  will  not  submit  to  interrogation.     The   decision  is  made  and 

I  am  going  to  see  this  girl  instanter,"  said  Mrs.  Raymond,  putting 

on  her  bonnet.    After  a  few  glances  in  the  mirror,  she  left  the  room 

for  the  street. 

"She  is  an  imperious  woman,  Stella,  this  aunt  of  yours.  She 
combines  within  her  the  three  great  functions  of  government." 

"As  Guy  would  say,  the  principle  of  'imperium  in  imperio' 
underlies  all  of  Aunt  Ida's  rulings." 

*  *  *  * 

Nathan's  mind  was  divided  all  the  afternoon  between  the  adven- 
ture with  the  runaway  team  and  his  chance  meeting  with  the  Indian 
girl  at  the  show  window.  He  had  no  use  for  the  Indians,  and  his 
first  act  on  meeting  one  in  the  wilds  of  the  west  would  be  to  bring 
his  rifle  to  his  shoulder.  Yet  the  squaw,  as  he  mentally  termed 
Laoni,  had  excited  his  sympathy.  She  seemed  to  him  out  of  place 
in  the  busy  city,  with  the  tones  of  the  Lipan  dialect  sounding 
strangely  among  the  brick  and  mortar  of  civilization.  He  had 
scalped  more  than  one  squaw,  but  here  was  one  arousing  his  sympathy 
and  interest.  After  all,  he  thought,  was  not  this  Lipan  girl  ahead 
of  the  people  to  be  seen  around  him? 

She  was  natural,  communicative  and  truthful.  They  were  filled 
with  artifice,  designing  and  hypocritical.  Look  at  Halfen — in  Texas 
a  sneak  and  a  spy;  here  an  ungrateful  villain  who  had  not  thanked 
him.  Reported  rich,  he  had  doubtless  fleeced  some  one,  or  many, 
and  was  revelling  in  stolen  wealth.  In  a  crude  way  Nathan  p 
nounced  city  civilization  an  iniquity.  It  occurred  to  him  tha 


n 


GUY  EAYMOND.  437 

consisted  of  a  class  war  on  the  individual  who,  multiplied,  made 
up  the  multitude.  It  was  soulless  and  selfish  and  in  conflict  with 
natural  laws.  The  backwoodsman's  mind  was  full  of  these  reflections 
when  he  encountered  Ducio,  in  the  convivial  company  of  two  or 
three  well  dressed  men. 

The  two  at  once  recognized  each  other. 

"You  are  the  person  who  did  me  such  a  valuable  service  this 
morning  ?" 

"I'm  Nathan  Eoach,  and  you  orto  know  that,  fur  we  messed 
together  long  enough." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Ducio,  "this  man — Mr.  Eoach — is  an  oddity. 
He  actually  saved  my  neck  and  prevented  serious  damage  to  my 
horses  and  carriage  today;  and  he  will  not  take  a  cent  in  payment." 

"See  here,  Mr.  Halfen,  yer  said  'bout  enough  'bout  that.  Ef  I 
want  pay  I  kin  ask  it,  an'  I  don't  want  yer  money,  fur  I  don't  know 
how  yer  made  it.  Ef  yer  want  to  pay  me  fur  just  stoppin'  yer  team, 
111  tell  yer  how  yer  kin  do  it." 

"How,  Mr.  Eoach?"  asked  Ducio  with  mock  gravity. 

"This  way,"  said  Nathan,  beckoning  him  aside.  There's  an  Injun 
gal,  a  nice  un,  speaks  'Merican,  ben  ter  school  and  wants  a  place." 

"Well?" 

"They  say  y'ere  rich — jest  take  the  gal — fur  to  help  yer  wife 
a  IK  I  yer  do  a  kind  deed,  and  pay  me  fur  the  trifle  yer  talk  about." 

"But  where  is  the  girl?" 

"'Telligence  Office — she's  jest  gone  thar." 

"Well,  my  friend,  you  can  depend  upon  my  seeing  this  girl  and 
providing  for  her,"  said  Ducio  starting  to  rejoin  his  friends. 

"See  here !"  said  Nathan,  calling  after  him.  "It's  me  that'll  be 
the  cause  of  yer  gettin'  her,  and  see  that  yer  be  just  to  her." 

"All  right!     All  right!"  said  Ducio  with  a  grin. 

"A  peculiar  fellow,"  he  said  as  he  turned  to  his  companions. 
M-V    peculiar." 
html  -looking  case." 
devil  in  a  fight,"  added  Ducio,  who  thought  of  Concepcion. 

Ducio  caroused  so  late  with  his  boon  companions  that  he  did 
not  visit  the  intelligence  office  on  the  afternoon  he  made  the  promise 
to  Nathan.  The  next  day,  however,  so  soon  as  he  had  recovered 
from  the  effects  of  his  dissipation,  he  ordered  his  carriage  and  drove 
to  several  intelligence  offices  before  he  found  the  right  one.  The 
proprietor  informed  him  that  an  Indian  girl  was  within,  but  he  feared 
lie  was  too  late  to  secure  her,  as  a  lady  had  engaged  her  that  morning. 
Ducio,  however,  said  he  would  speak  with  her,  having  promised  to 


438  GUY  RAYMOND. 

interest  himself  in  her  behalf,  and  alighting  from  the  vehicl( 
entered  the  place. 

He  was  ushered  into  a  small  sitting  room  intended  as  the  place 
of  interview  between  help  and  employers,  before  making  a  contract 
for  service.  He  waited  here  only  a  very  short  time,  naturally  specu- 
lating on  the  probable  appearance  which  the  Indian  girl  would  make. 
A  vision  of  a  blanketed  form  with  coarse  black  hair  and  scrawny 
figure  floated  through  his  mind  as  he  remembered  the  glimpses  he 
had  caught  of  a  procession  of  braves  and  squaws  of  some  domesticated 
tribe.  He  had  little  idea  of  what  she  should  do  in  his  employment, 
if  employ  her  he  did  at  all.  Ducio  was  not  therefore  prepared  for 
the  entrance  of  the  girl-like  figure,  full  of  ease  and  grace,  that  stood 
hesitating  as  if  to  address  him.  He  found  himself  only  in  half 
voice  as  he  inquired  if  she  were  the  person  about  whom  Nathan  had 
spoken  to  him. 

"I  am  Laoni,"  she  said  in  well  articulated  English. 

"He  did  not  tell  your  name.     Are  you  Indian?" 

"Lipan." 

"You  have  been  long  away  from  your  people?" 

"Long?  Yes,  long,  when  I  look  at  it  in  one  way.  If  I  should 
count  it  in  the  months  before  I  became  a  prisoner  the  time  would 
seem  to  have  had  the  wings  of  the  eagle." 

"The  time  which  had  elapsed  since  the  destruction  of  the  village 
about  equalled  the  period  of  Guy's  stay  among  the  Indians,  and  this 
comparison  presented  itself  to  the  girl's  mind  as  she  reverted  to  the 
months  preceding  her  capture. 

Ducio  watched  her  every  motion  and  noted  the  workings  of  her 
handsome,  expressive  features  in  mute  surprise.  There  was  a  delicious 
softness  in  her  tones  that  delighted,  while  only  a  pleasant  accent 
suggested  the  fact  that  the  language  was  not  her  mother-tongue. 

"He  said  you  were  without  friends,  and  wished  me  to  call  hei 
and  offer  you  my  aid." 

"It  was  good  of  him." 

"What  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"I  was  looking  for  a  place  in  which  to  earn  my  living,  and  by  a 
good  fortune  a  lady — she  said  she  was  a  Mexican — came  this  morn- 
ing and  agreed  to  try  me." 

"A  Mexican?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Tall  and  slender?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"A  brunette?" 


Guy  RAYMOND.  439 

"A  brunette?"  she  asked,  as  if  not  comprehending. 

"Dark  complexion." 

"Oh,  No!     All  are  fair  in  the  eyes  of  Laoni." 

"My  wife  said  she  intended  to  look  for  a  girl,  and  I  thought 
she  might  have  gotten  here  before  me  and  engaged  you." 

"She  did  not  say  she  was  a  wife." 

"Perhaps  she  did  not,"  said  Ducio,  showing  some  nervousness. 
"Ladies  looking  for  help  are  usually  married  ladies.  If  you  will 
await  my  return,  I  will  now  go  and  find  out  if  my  wife  has  been 
here.  If  she  has  engaged  you,  I  will  return  and  take  you  home  in 
my  carriage." 

Laoni  having  assented,  he  left  the  room. 

Ducio's  mind  was  in  a  state  of  perturbation  not  usual  with  him. 
Laoni  had  made  an  impression  upon  him  that  caused  a  thousand 
thoughts  and  plans  to  come  and  go.  Thoughts  and  plans  that  boded 
no  good  to  their  subject  and  which  were  the  fit  and  natural  outcome 
of  depraved  and  lecherous  habits.  Who  could  the  Mexican  lady  be? 
He  remembered  that  his  wife  could  not  have  had  time  to  visit  the 
place  since  he  left  home.  If  he  had  gone  the  previous  afternoon  the 
girl  could  have  been  secured.  He  drove  aimlessly  around  the  streets, 
tb inking  of  the  handsome  Indian  and  his  purpose  to  claim  her  for 
himself. 

A  thought  struck  him. 

He  turned  down  Royale  to  Custom  House  street,  drove  several 
blocks,  then  stopped  before  a  handsome  house  with  iron  steps  wind- 
ing from  the  banquette  to  the  second  story.  These  he  ascended  and 
used  the  knocker  of  the  door.  A  portly  woman  received  him,  and 
they  retired  to  the  parlor.  Within  an  hour  from  the  time  Ducio  left 
the  intelligence  office,  he  was  back  again,  and  called  for  Laoni. 

"It  was  as  I  expected/5  he  said.  "It  was  for  my  wife  you  were 
engaged,  and  now  I  am  here  to  take  you  home." 

"Then  she  was  a  wife.    She  looked  so  young." 

"No ;  the  lady  was  a  friend  of  my  wife,  who  is  an  invalid,"  replied 
Ducio,  with  a  ready  lie. 

"A  little  bag  holds  all  I  have,  and  I  will  be  with  you  in  a 
moment,"  said  Laoni. 

As  Ducio  took  a  seat  beside  her  in  his  equipage,  he  chuckled  at 
the  success  of  his  ruse. 

A.  few  minutes  and  the  smoking  team  drew  up  at  the  house  on 
Custom  House  street.  The  winding  stairs  were  mounted,  the  same 
portly  woman  answered  the  summons,  and  Ducio,  after  placing  Laoni 
in  her  charge,  descended  to  the  street  and  drove  away. 


440  GUY  EAYMOND. 


CHAPTEE  LX. 

Mrs.  Raymond.,  having  fallen  into  the  congenial  company  oJ 
several  lady  shoppers,  passed  in  consequence  such  a  pleasant  time 
that  she  was  startled  to  find  out  how  very  late  it  was  when  she 
parted  with  them,,  and  that  she  yet  had  to  visit  the  intelligence  office 
to  see  her  Indian  maid.  She  was  so  impressed  with  the  belief  that 
it  was  her  late  brother's  protege  whom  Beatrice  had  engaged,  she 
did  not  experience  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  that  she  would  return 
home  in  triumph  with  her  nouveaute. 

The  intelligence  office  was  about  to  close  for  the  day,  when  she 
presented  herself  and  stated  her  mission. 

"My  dear  madam,,  the  girl  was  engaged  this  morning,  and  this 
afternoon,  during  my  absence  for  a  time,  the  lady  sent  a  carriage 
for  her." 

The  lady's  disappointment  was  extreme.  She  could  glean  no 
further  information — no  description  of  carriage  or  of  driver — no 
intimation  of  the  direction  taken  by  the  vehicle.  She  fumed  towards 
home  with  a  heavy  heart.  It  had  beat  high  on  going  in  anticipation 
of  the  pleasure  in  prospect  of  introducing  a  new  feature  in  fash- 
ionable life.  Added  to  this  was  strong  curiosity  to  behold  the  girl 
on  whom  her  brother  had  lavished  praises,  and  who  had  made  pro- 
digious progress  in  the  convent.  Could  Beatrice  have  so  far  defied 
her  as  to  send  for  this  girl  after  her  positive  announcement  of  her 
purpose  in  regard  to  the  matter  ?  Sent  for  her  in  a  carriage !  That 
was  done  to  hurry  the  girl  away  and  avoid  encountering  her  in  the 
street.  This  was  Mexican  impudence  personified.  Guy  would  rue 
the  day  he  took  such  an  artful  piece  to  his  bosom.  It  was  perhaps 
fortunate  that  Beatrice  had  taken  her  departure  from  the  Rue  Royale 
before  the  return  of  Mrs.  Raymond  from  her  fruitless  visit  to  the 
intelligence  office.  It  provided  time  in  which  to  compare  notes  and 
reach  conclusions  before  wrong  impressions  could  precipitate  a  co 
lision.  Stella  was  watching  for  her  aunt  as  she  came  in. 

"Aunt  Ida,  did  you  see  Beatrice's  Indian  maid?" 

"I  presume  they  are  in  company  now.    There  is  but  a  step  fro 
Mexican  to  Indian/'  replied  her  aunt  tartly. 

"In  company?  Why,  Aunty,  Beatrice  has  just  left  here.  She 
supposed  that  you  would  return  with  the  protege,  and  she  remained 
late  that  she  might  behold  the  new  portion  of  your  train." 


JLU 

; 


GUY  KAYMOND.  441 

"It  is  well  she  left,  for  I  am  in  no  humor  to  listen  to  her 
badinage." 

"What  has  Beatrice  done?" 

"Knough.  She  has  sent  a  carriage  and  taken  off  this  girl  to 
outgeneral  me." 

"There  is  evidently  some  mistake,  for  she  could  not  have  done  it 
without  my  knowledge.  We  were  together  every  moment  since  you 
left,  until  just  before  you  returned." 

Mrs.  Raymond  cut  the  matter  short  by  declining  to  hear  any 
more  on  the  subject.  Stella  retired  to  her  aunt's  room,  and  drawing 
a  chair  near  the  grate,  whose  cheery  glow  made  her  conscious  of  the 
chill  of  the  veranda,  soon  had  her  attention  engrossed  in  a  book. 
Her  aunt  made  her  toilet  for  the  evening,  and  repaired  to  the  parlor, 
all  traces  of  the  afternoon's  annoyance  banished  from  her  features. 

The  home  of  Beatrice  during  her  residence  in  the  Crescent  City 
had  been  with  a  friend  and  distant  relative  of  her  father,  who  was 
a  prosperous  wine  merchant.  His  abode  was  a  modest  structure  in 
one  of  the  most  respectable  portions  of  Esplanade  street,  an  aristo- 
cratic avenue,  upon  which  some  of  the  first  Creole  families  of  the 
city  lived  in  luxurious  style.  These  formed  a  circle  within  which 
few  outsiders  were  permitted,  and  these  had  to  possess  the  merit 
of  true  worth  and  honorable  calling  to  obtain  recognition.  Senor 
Eivas,  the  distant  relative  who  had  received  Beatrice,  was  among 
this  favored  few.  In  fact,  his  wife  was  a  Creole  of  the  purest  blood, 
and  his  long  life  in  the  Creole  city  had  eradicated  whatever  of  the 
Mexican  had  been  in  his  disposition  and  manners.  Beatrice  had 
visited  the  Rivas  home  on  her  return  from  school  in  Baltimore,  and 
was  therefore  not  quite  a  stranger  in  the  circle  which  radiated  from 
the  Esplanade  street  center.  To  this  home  she  bent  her  steps  when 
she  left  Stella  awaiting  her  aunt's  return  from  the  intelligence  office. 
The  latter's  protracted  stay  had  puzzled  her.  The  Indian  girl  must 
have  refused  to  break  her  engagement.  At  all  events,  she  determined 
(<•  ascertain  on  the  following  morning  if  an  Indian's  promise  was  as 
little  to  be  depended  upon  as  an  Indian's  gift.  She  did  not  really 
care  for  the  services  of  a  maid,  but  the  custom  of  the  city  made  it 
necessary  to  have  one,  and  her  latest  appendage  in  that  line  had 
transferred  her  allegiance  to  a  husband.  Mrs.  Rivas  was  somewhat 
Martled  to  learn  of  Beatrice's  selection,  and  very  much  doubted  if  an 
Indian  girl  could  supply  the  place  of  her  late  maid. 

It  was  not  a  restful  pillow  upon  which  Beatrice  laid  hen  head 
when  she  retired  for  the  night.  The  dusky  maiden  filled  her  thoughts 
so  completely  that  sleep  was  banished  until  the  cocks  crowed  lustily 


All 

: 


442  GUY  RAYMOND. 

in  the  vicinity.    Then  a  feverish  sleep  succeeded,  filled  with  fanciful 
visions  and  stranger  dreams. 

After  a  late  breakfast  she  was  on  her  way  to  Conti  street.  The 
office  was  soon  reached  and  there,  on  opposite  benches,  were  candidates 
for  employment.  A  rapid  glance  informed  her  that  her  promised 
maid  was  not  present.  She,  however,  was  absent  for  the  reason  that 
she  had  promised  to  enter  her  service,  so  Beatrice  concluded,  until 
the  polite  proprietor  enlightened  her. 

"The  Indian  girl  I"  he  exclaimed.     "Why,  mademoiselle,  she 
creating  quite  a  stir.     So  many  inquiries!     You  would  not  believe, 
mademoiselle." 

"But  I  engaged  her." 

"So  I  believe,  mademoiselle.     You  were  the  first." 

"I  was.     Did  anyone  else  come  for  her?" 

"Anyone  else !  First,  after  you,  came  a  gentleman  with  a  carriage, 
and  he  tells  the  girl  he  is  your  husband,  and  you  sent  him  for  her. 
She  went  with  him  at  two  o'clock.  At  five,  came  a  lady  of  middle 
age  and  she  says  she  wants  the  Indian  girl.  When  she  is  informed 
of  the  facts,  she  was  quite  serious,  mademoiselle,  and  if  it  were  not 
wrong  to  say  of  a  lady,  I  would  say  that  elle  etait  en  colere,  mad- 
emoiselle." 

"Then  the  girl  has  been  taken  away,"  said  Beatrice,  in  a  disap- 
pointed tone. 

"By  the  monsieur  who  said  he  was  your  husband." 

"He  was  an  impostor." 

"Quite  probable,  mademoiselle." 

"No  traces  as  to  who  he  is  or  where  he  lives  ?" 

"Not  a  clue.     It  was  a  misfortune  that  I  was  not  here  when 
happened." 

"I  hope  no  harm  will  come  to  her,"  said  Beatrice,  half  to  herself. 

The  man  shrugged  his  shoulders  until  they  nearly  reached  his  ears 
to  indicate  his  profound  ignorance  of  what  danger  the  girl  might 
be  in. 

Beatrice,  realizing  the  uselessness  of  further  inquiry  and  perplexed 
to  find  this  second  obstacle  thrown  in  the  way  of  her  design  to  secure 
the  services  of  the  pretty  Indian,  turned  her  steps  homeward.  The 
feeling  which  possessed  her  was  akin  to  alarm  when  she  speculated 
upon  the  possibility  that  she  had  been  spirited  away  by  unfriendly 
hands.  She  tried  to  reason  that  whatever  experience  awaited  her, 
it  would  be  the  result  of  her  own  folly;  but  still  there  remained  a 
feeling  of  disappointment  akin  to  the  regret  ensuing  from  the  sev- 
erance of  the  tie  existing  between  sympathetic  personalities.  She 
tried  to  shake  off  the  depression,  but  it  possessed  her  until  she  reached 


rhen  it 


GUY  RAYMOND.  443 

the  apartments  of  Mrs.  Raymond.  The  latter  had  slept  upon  her 
own  feelings  in  regard  to  Laoni's  disappearance,  and  had  become 
convinced,  from  Stella's  statements,  that  Beatrice  had  not  been  in- 
strumental jn  her  abduction,  if  abducted  she  had  been.  She  there- 
fore received  her  nephew's  fiancee  in  a  far  more  docile  mood  than  would 
have  characterized  a  similar  reception  the  evening  before.  As  it  was, 
their  moods  were  in  accord  for  mutual  condolences,  and  their  inten- 
tions directed  to  a  common  purpose  for  the  unravelling  of  a  per- 
plexing mystery. 

Mrs.  Raymond  was  actuated  by  a  will  which  would  not  brook 
the  interposition  of  any  obstacle.  Beatrice  had  been  captivated  by  a 
novel  personality  which  combined  the  naivete  of  the  natural  and 
artless  with  the  grace  and  demeanor  of  gentle  training.  These  were 
sufficient  to  interest  the  betrothed  of  Guy  Raymond,  in  the  girl  who 
had  saved  him  from  the  stake,  to  say  nothing  of  the  mystic  influence 
which  bent  them  to  the  common  channel  through  which  flowed  their 
all  absorbing  loves. 

Beatrice  paused  with  the  sympathy  of  Stella  and  Mrs.  Rivas. 
The  aunt  having  slept  a  second  night  upon  her  temporary  defeat, 
found  herself  in  a  mood  to  prosecute  a  vigorous  search  for  the  miss- 
ing girl.  Without  communicating  her  purpose,  she  told  Stella  to 
get  ready  to  go  out  with  her,  and  soon  the  two  were  directing  their 
steps  to  Canal  street.  They  turned  down  the  latter  avenue,  when 
the  aunt  called  a  carriage.  As  the  driver  shut  them  inside,  to  his 
inquiring  glance,  Mrs.  Raymond  replied : 

"Place  D'Armes." 

They  whirled  away  down  Chartres  and  in  due  course  arrived  in 
front  of  the  Cathedral,  with  Place  D'Armes  on  their  right,  and  the 
vehicle  stopped  beside  the  curb  of  the  latter's  sidewalk. 

"Remain  here,  my  dear,  in  the  carriage.  I  will  not  be  gone  very 
long.  I  have  a  little  business  to  transact  across  the  street/'  said 
Mrs.  Raymond. 

Having  given  instructions  to  her  driver,  the  lady  crossed  the  way 
and,  preceding  past  the  church,  entered  a  front  office  on  the  first  floor 
of  the  next  building. 

"I  wish  to  see  the  chief  of  police,"  she  said  to  a  little  man,  with 
a  large  goose-quill  behind  his  ear,  and  who  arose  from  his  seat  at  a 
desk  when  the  lady  entered.  He  replied  with  a  polite  inclination : 

"The  chief  is  engaged  with  a  gentleman  in  the  private  office. 
If  madame  will  wait  a  moment  he  will  be  at  leisure." 

"Tell  him  at  once  that  a  lady  is  here  on  important  business  and 
he  must  give  her  an  immediate  audience,"  she  answered  in  a  tone  of 
determination. 


-i  VCUIA: 

face 


444  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"I  will  report  your  message,  madam,"  replied  the  scribe,  o 
and  disappearing  through  a  door,  which  presumably  led  into  a  private 
office. 

In  the  next  minute  he  reappeared,  and  announced: 

"The  chief  will  see  madam  at  once." 

The  smile  of  'satisfaction  had  hardly   disappeared  from  the 
of  the   waiting   lady   before   the   same   door   opened   and   two   men 
appeared.     One,  tall  and  dark,  passed  on  out  into  the  street;  the 
other  approached  and  greeted  Mrs.  Raymond.     The  first  was  Ducio 
Halfen,  the  latter  the  chiei  of  police. 

"Madame  has  important  business?" 

"Important  to  myself  and  another  directly — indirectly  to  the 
public  who  suffer  from  every  character  of  wrong." 

"Will  madame  come  to  the  point?     I  will  be  all  attention." 

Mrs.  Raymond  detailed  her  business,  which,  of  course,  was  the 
disappearance  of  Laoni,  and  an  offer  of  a  reward,  provided  she 
could  be  located. 

"No  clue,  except  that  she  went  with  a.  man  in  a  carriage  drawn 
by  two  horses,"  repeated  the  chief.  "No  proof  that  she  went  against 
her  will?"  he  continued. 

"But  false  pretenses  were  used  to  get  her  consent  to  go." 

"Then  she  is  held  against  her  will,  if  she  has  become  aware  that 
those  pretenses  were  false." 

"Quite  correct." 

"You  have  no  claims  on  this  Indian  girl?" 

"Well — she  was  the  protege  of  my  brother,  who  is  now  dead,  a 
I  am  therefore  her  best  friend." 

"That  amounts  to  something;  but  if  a  crime  has  been  committ 
that  is  sufficient  for  the  police  to  know.     The  reward,  of  course,  will 
quicken  matters." 

After  some  additional  consultation  touching  possible  theories  as 
to  the  missing  girl's  whereabouts  and  the  course  of  procedure  to  be 
pursued,  the  lady  took  her  departure  and  joined  Stella  at  tl 
carriage. 

"Oh,  Aunt  Ida !  A  most  impertinent  looking  man  almost  stoppe< 
as  he  passed  the  carriage,  a  short  time  after  you  entered  that  place, 
and  stared  so  impudently  into  my  face  that  he  fairly  frightened 
me.  I  will  never  forget  his  look.  He  was  tall  and  dark,  with  jet 
black  hair  and  mustache,  and  such  piercing  eyes." 

"The  description  of  a  fellow  whom  I  found  closeted  with  the 
chief  of  police,"  said  her  aunt.  "He  looked  like  impudence  personi- 
fied." 


AYMOND.  445 


CHAPTER  LXI. 

Nathan  was  mindful  of  his  promise  made  to  Laoni  that  he  would 
return  to  the  place  where  he  had  met  her,  and  impart  what  news 
he  might  be  able  to  learn,  from  returning  volunteers,  of  the  youth 
in  whom  she  was  so  much  interested.  He  watched  for  the  arrival 
of  the  expected  vessel,  and  was  present  when  she  landed  two  days 
later  with  a  number  of  the  ex-soldiers  of  Texas.  It  was  with  a 
feeling  of  disappointment  that  his  eye  ran  from  face  to  face  among 
those  who  crowded  the  schooner's  deck,  without  recognizing  an 
acquaintance.  He  was  about  to  make  an  inquiry  of  one  of  the  men 
as  to  when  the  next  vessel  would  sail  from  Galveston  for  New 
Orleans,  when  a  familiar  voice  hailed  him. 

"Hello,  Roach  !    What  are  you  doing  here  ?" 

"If  it  ain't  Hamilton!     I'm  powerful  glad  to  see  yer." 

"And  I  to  see  you,  Nathan.  Thought  you  were  home  in  Rakensack 
before  this  time." 

"I  ain't  quite  broke,  and  I  concluded  to  see  some  of  the  sights 
in  Orleans.  Who's  with  yer  that  I  know?" 

"I'm  alone.     There  is  none  of  our  crowd." 

"Where's  Perry?" 

"Home — somewhere  on  the  Brazos.  I  left  Ruiz  and  Guy  Ray- 
mond on  the  island.  They  both  had  to  go  to  San  Antonio  on 
business."  • 

"Guy  Raymond — Guy  Raymond,"  repeated  Nathan.  "She  said 
Guy,  and  that's  the  pretty  feller  she  spoke  about.  Was  he  oncet  a 
prisoner  with  the  Injuns?" 

"Guy  Raymond?    Yes — for  a  year  or  two." 

"Thafs  him,  then."  said  Nathan  aside.  "This  Injun  gal  must 
V  ben  his  squaw.  He's  sum  'mong  the  women.  He  buckled  onto 
two  that  night  in  San  Antone  where  we  saved  his  bacon." 

"When  is  Guy  Raymond  a-comin'  over?"  he  asked  of  Hamilton. 

'When  he  gets  through  his  business  in  Bexar.  You  remember 
the  jailer  Bonito,  and  his  pretty  daughter?" 

"That's  what  I  do." 

"Well,  Bonito  turned  up  missing,  it  seems,  and  they  found  him 
in  a  kind  of  a  vault  under  the  jail,  dead  as  a  mackerel.  No  one 
knew  anything  about  the  vault  except  himself  and  two  or  three 
otbrrp,  nnrl  he  was  dead  a  day  or  two  before  they  found  him.  All 
sorts  of  stories  <rot  out  about  baers  of  gold  which  the  old  fellow 
had  hid  away  down  there,  and  a  lot  of  men  explored  it  and  searched 

29 


446  GUY  EAYMOND. 


the  place  from  end  to  end,  but  found  nothing.  Ruiz  received  the 
news  of  all  this  by  letter,  and  as  he  is  engaged  to  the  daughter,  he 
left  at  once  for  San  Antonio,  and  Guy  Raymond  went  with  him." 

"But  what  kept  you  on  the  island  so  long?" 

"What  I  stayed  there  for  was  a  secret,  but  I  can  tell  you  now. 
It  must,  however,  go  no  further.  Old  man  Trigg  had  some  treasure 
buried  on  the  island,  and  I,  at  Guy  Raymond's  request,  stayed  with 
him  to  hunt  it  up.  We  had  the  description  of  the  spot,  and  after 
a  day  or  two's  prospecting  we  hit  it.  The  pot  which  held  the  stuff 
was  there,  but  that  was  all,  except  a  few  coins  left  through  careless- 
ness or  haste.  There  was  a  paper  found,  dropped  by  the  fellow 
who  got  away  with  the  prize.  This  paper  is  safe  and  will  be  forth- 
coming at  the  proper  time." 

"Was  the  old  jailer  murdered?" 

"No  sign  of  violence;  so  it  was  put  up  that  he  had  a  fit,  or  heart 
disease.  Where  are  you  stopping,  Nathan?" 

"Promiscu'us  like.  I  stop  all  over,  with  headquarters  at  George's 
place." 

"George's?"  exclaimed  Hamilton.  "George  is  the  name  of  the 
fellow  who  disappeared  about  the  same  time  that  the  stranger  who 
dropped  that  passport  was  on  the  island,"  continued  Hamilton,  aside. 

"What  kind  of  a  looking  fellow  is  this  George,  Nathan?" 

"He's  heavy  built,  chunky,  grizzly,  and  stoops." 

"The  very  description,"  thought  Hamilton. 

"Let  us  go  to  George's,  Nathan;  I'm  curious  to  see  this  man." 

"S'pose  yer  git  settled  fust.  Yer  ain't  hardly  touched  Orleans 
dirt  yet,  and  I  s'pose  it'll  be  a  few*  days  afore  yer'll  leave.  Besides, 
I've  got  to  meet  a  friend,  and  it's  nigh  the  time.  George's  isn't  far, 
and  as  we  pass  the  second  street  I'll  pint  yer  to  it." 

Nathan  left  Hamilton  to  join  Laoni  at  the  show  window,  accord- 
ing to  promise.  He  went  with  more  satisfaction  since  the  news 
through  the  former  would  enable  him  to  name  the  whereabouts 
the  youth  in  whom  she  seemed  so  much  interested. 

He  found  her  waiting,  but  not  aware  of  his  approach  until 
almost  touched  her. 

"This  is  good  of  you,"  she  said. 

"It  war  a  promise,"  he  replied. 

"Some  are  careless  of  promises." 
,      "Right's  right,  with  Nathan  Roach." 

"Have  you  anything — is  there  any  word   from  El  Bravo?" 

"That's  his  Injun  name.     What  war  his  Christian  name?" 

"His  people  called  him  Guy." 


GUY  EAYMOND.  447 

"I  knowed  a  feller,  as  purty  as  a  pink  and  brave  as  a  war  chief, 
with  an  eye  like  you  said,  who  was  a  prisoner  a  year  or  two,  and  fit 
the  greasers  long  side  o'  me  from  San  Antone  down,  and  his  name 
was  Guy." 

"Oh,  it  was  he — it  must  have  been  El  Bravo.  Was  his  voice  soft 
and  mellow  when  he  spoke  words  of  peace  and  friendship,  and  firm 
and  strong  when  he  pushed  back  a  foe?  El  Bravo  had  the  courage 
of  the  war  chief,  with  the  tenderness  of  a  maiden.  I  loved  him  with 
all  tlie  abandon  of  a  perfect  confidence;  yet  when  my  heartstrings 
were  torn  at  parting,  no  embrace  could  have  been  purer  than  his; 
no  kiss  holier  than  that  which  he  pressed  upon  my  lips." 

"Yer  thought  sights  of  the  feller.     How  about  him?" 

"He  loved  me — but  in  his  love  El  Bravo's  self  was  lost.  It  was 
a  love  that  would  lift  me  from  the  home  of  the  Lipan,  from  the 
(It-cam  of  a  life,  content  with  simple  wants  and  rude  customs  of  my 
people,  and  teach  me  what  he  conceived  to  be  the  better  principles 
of  the  white  men.  But  tell  me  of  him  you  knew.  His  name  was 
Guy?" 

"Guy  Kaymond." 

"It  is  he." 

"He'll  be  here  in  a  week's  time." 

"You  will  bring  him  to  me?" 

"Ef '  I'm  here.  Tell  the  truth,  I'm  gittin'  short  o'  money— but 
lei  nine  see — I'll  stay  fur  yer,  ef  I  have  to  roll  cotton." 

"Good  friend — he  will  repay  you." 

"Where  yer  stoppin'?     Got  a  place?" 

"I  have  a  place — but  it  is  so  strange.  A  place  with  nothing  to 
do.  A  home  with  the  mistress  gone.  Everything  I  want  is  furnished 
me.  T  cannot  make  a  move  outside  the  room  I  have,  unless  an  eye 
is  on  me.  I  was  told  the  gentleman  who  hired  me  ordered  that  I 
should  not  go  out  on  the  street.  I  remembered  your  promise  to 
meet  me  here,  and  I  slipped  out  without  the  housekeeper  seeing  me. 
I  do  not  know  how  they  will  receive  me  when  I  go  back." 

"Is  the  place  fur 'off  ?" 

"The  third  street  down  from  this." 

"I've  another  'pintment,  miss.  Say  six  days  from  now,  'bout 
this  time  I'll  be  here  agin,  and  ef  yer  El  Bravo  is  in  Orleans  he'll 
l;c  alonir-ido  o'  me." 

"Good  friend,  how  can  I  thank  you?  Depend  upon  it,  if  alive 
and  froo,  Laoni  will  be  here." 

Xaihan  strode  away,  wondering  to  himself  how,  despite  all  his 
paHt  antipathy  for  the  race,  he  found  himself  all  but  in  love  with 
an  Indian  girl. 


448  GUY  EAYMOND. 


Laoni  hurried  back  to  the  house,  which  seemed  to  her  little  less 
than  a  prison,  since  she  knew  that  she  was  watched,  and  that  her 
exit  to  the  street  was  forbidden.  It  appeared  to  her,  on  reflection, 
that  it  was  better  than  wandering  around  the  city.  She  could  not 
complain,  since  her  wants  were  supplied  without  having,  thus  far, 
done  anything  to  deserve  compensation.  She  had  been  told  that 
her  occupation  would  be  light  or  nominal  until  the  return  of  the 
mistress  of  the  house,  and  that  she  must  make  herself  at  home  in 
the  meantime.  Considering  her  almost  unbroken  leisure,  she»could 
not  account  for  the  restriction  which  confined  her  to  the  house,  or 
the  motive  that  instigated  the  surveillance.  Her  absence  had  doubt- 
less been  discovered,  and  she  anticipated  the  question  of  the  woman 
who  was  denominated  housekeeper,  when  that  person  should  note 
her  return.  Laoni  was  the  soul  of  truth,  not  having  yet  been  con- 
taminated by  that  essential  of  civilization,  a  propensity  to  lie.  When 
the  housekeeper  demanded  why  she  had  disobeyed  a  positive  order, 
she  replied  that  it  was  her  intention  to  get  permission  to  go,  but 
that  on  seeing  no  one  about,  and  the  time  of  her  tryst  with 
Nathan  almost  at  hand,  she  made  haste  to  reach  the  place  of  meeting. 
"It  is  a  fine  character  you  will  have,  meeting  men  that  way.  I 
suppose  he  is  a  lover/' 

"No,  madam.     It  was  on  business." 
"No  love  in  it,  then?" 

"No — yes — it  was  about  one  I  love  I  wished  to  hear." 
"Caught  you  in  a  story.     You  tried  to  deny  it." 
"No — not  deny  that  I  love.     I  denied  loving  the  man  I 
With  him  I  had  an  appointment  to  learn  what  he  knew  of  one  whom 
I  do  love." 

"Well,  miss,  if  you  want  to  please  the  gentleman  who's  paying 
you,  and  keep  his  good  will,  you  will  stop  meeting  men  on  the  street 
for  any  purpose.  Please  him,  and  he  will  lavish  money  and  every- 
thing you  like  on  you." 

"He  can  only  pay  me  my  wages — what  I  earn.  More  than  that 
I  have  no  right  to  ask."  . 

"You  can  make  the  right  to  ask  him  everything.  He  is  rich, 
and  a  fine  girl  like  you  could  make  him  her  slave." 

"I  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  master.     The  mistress'  maid 
shielded  by.  the  mistress'  presence.     If  she  is  good  I  will  prove  her 
worthy  maid  and  gain  her  favor." 

"The  mistress  has  been  long  away.  Suppose  the  news  of  hoi- 
death  should  come,  which  could  happen,  seeing  she  was  in  wretched 
health,  and  the  master's  love  should  Ml  upon  the  maid?  Stranger 
things  have  happened.  You  could  not  well  refuse  his  money  and 


GUY  RAYMOND.  449 

his  heart;  you  who  depend  upon  n.  slender  pay  in  this  hard  world." 

"'He  would  be  a  false  husband  who  would  love  again  so  soon, 
and  she  a  foolish  maid  who  would  trust  to  his  false  words." 

The  woman  was  called  away  and  Laoiii  retired  to  her  room. 
The  latter  apartment  was  one  of  the  best  in  the  house,  being  well 
furnished  with  the  comforts  of  sitting  room  and  sleeping  chamber. 
This  fact  alone  would  have  raised  a  suspicion  in  a  less  artless  nature, 
that  her  position  was  a  pretense,  and  underlying  it  a  scheme.  The 
man  who  brought  her  there  had  left  her  to  herself,  and,  through 
his  alleged  housekeeper,  had  held  out  the  idea  that  the  arrival  of 
the  mistress  of  the  house  was  to  occur  shortly. 

The  drift  given  to  the  conversation  by  the  woman,  on  her  return 
from  meeting  Nathan,  was  doubtless  dictated  by  him  to  bridge  the 
way  to  an  interview.  At  any  rate,  the  same  afternoon  the  house- 
keeper informed  her  that  the  master  would  be  there,  and  she  had 
better  put  on  her  best  looks.  Laoni,  filled  with  her  own  innocence, 
anil  occupied  by  the  joyful  expectation  of  soon  beholding  El  Bravo, 
little  cared  if  the  master  came  or  went,  or  if  the  mistress  returned, 
or  still  lingered  wherever  she  then  sojourned  as  an  invalid. 

It  was  evening  before  Ducio  made  his  appearance. 

For  many  minutes  IIP  remained  closeted  with  the  housekeeper. 
When  their  consultation  was  over  he  repaired  to  the  next  apart- 
ment, which  served  as  a  sitting  room,  and  sent  for  Laoni. 

The  latter  made  her  appearance  immediately. 

"You  wished  to  see  me,  sir?'5 

"I  sent  for  you  to  give  you  sad  news,"  he  said,  slowly  and  sadly. 

Laoni  looked  startled;  she  thought  at  once  of  Guy. 

"Sad  news  to  me,"  he  continued.  "My  poor  wife,  for  whom  I 
wanted  you  as  a  companion,  is  dead.  Her  disease  was  too  much  for 
her,  and  all  remedies  failed.  While  her  death  saddens  me,  I  feel 
relieved  that  her  sufferings  are  ended." 

"Then  you  will  not  want  a  maid,"  she  said. 

"No — not  for  her — but  do  not  trouble  yourself,  my  dear  girl. 
Remain  here  and  make  yourself  comfortable  until  I  see  what  I  will 
do.  I  may  have  use  for  your  services,  but  if  I  do  not,  this  will  be 
your  home  as  long  as  you  desire  it,  or  until  I  can  get  you  a  place. 
I  am  too  sad  to  talk  much,  so  you  will  please  excuse  me.  The  house- 
keeper has  been  told  to  supply  all  your  wants." 

"I  am  very  sorry  for  your  loss,  sir,  and  thankful  for  your  kind- 

.''  said  Laoni,  in  a  tone  of  mingled  sorrow  and  gratitude. 

As  Ducio  left  the  sitting  room  he  met  the  housekeeper,  and  gave 
her  a  sign  to  follow  him. 


450  GUY  RAYMOND. 

T, 

"I've  gained   an   important  point/'  he  said.     "I  have  won 
sympathy.     With  a  woman  that  is  the  first  step  to   gain   her  tV 
yourself.     Be  cautions  how  you  talk  to  her,  and  say  nothing  thi 
will  arouse  a  suspicion  of  the  truth.     Give  her  everything  she  wanl 
and  leave  the  wooing  to  me." 

The  woman  watched  the  retreating  form  of  the  villain  as  he  1( 
the  hall  for  the  street,,  then  turned  away  muttering: 

"He  is  a  precious  scoundrel.  It  was  this  way  I  was  betrayed. 
First  my  sympathy — then  my  confidence — and  then — ah  !  then — 

CHAPTER  LXIL 

In  that  portion  of  New  Orleans  below  the  Place  D'Armes,  and 
which  stretched  away  to  its  lower  outskirts,  where  the  narrow  streets 
were  paved  with  cobblestones  and  the  roofs  of  the  old-fashioned 
buildings  were  made  picturesque  by  their  coverings  of  red-hued  pot- 
tery, lived  the  poorer  class  of  its  population.  Here  dwelt  the  mixed 
element,  whose  composite  pedigrees,  dating  back  many  generations, 
had  been  lost  in  the  weld  of  indiscriminate  admixture  and  ultimate 
homogeneity.  This  caste  however,  presented  the  usual  gradations  of 
social  distinction.  The  more  favored  of  fortune  held  aloof  from  the 
plodding  mass  and  aped  the  manners  of  the  purer  blooded  aristoc- 
racy of  wealth.  A  middle  class,  composing  the  more  numerous  set, 
and  among  whom  were  counted  some  few  families  of  undoubted 
respectability  and  pure  lineage,  but  forced  to  a  lower  plane  by  the 
weight  of  poverty,  formed  the  next  social  strata.  The  lower  extreme, 
defining  no  certain  boundary  in  its  ascending  tendency,  extended  to 
the  wall  where  slavery  began. 

From  the  darker  side  of  this  wall  Half  en  did  not  owe  his  origin, 
because  his  mother  had  been  a  freed  woman  before  his  birth.  His 
father,  a  man  of  influence,  and  at  one  time  wealthy,  had  sent  him 
to  an  institution  of  learning,  where  he  was  admitted  as  a  Creole  of 
respectable  parentage.  When  Ducio  returned  from  Texas  he  was 
drawn  to  the  location  where  his  changed  fortunes  would  be  best 
adapted  to  excite  the  envy  or  command  the  admiration  of  his  own 
element.  He  purchased  a  home  not  remote  from  the  cottage  where 
he  was  born  and  where  lived  his  mother,  until  her  death.  To  this 
home  he  brought  Josef  a,  and  here  they  passed  the  succeeding  months 
in  that  harmony  of  intercourse  which  can  be  depicted  as  character- 
istic of  willful  yet  discordant  natures.  Josef  a  had  paid  the  penalty 
of  attaching  her  fortunes  to  the  career  of  an  unprincipled  adventurer. 
On  the  day  of  the  runaway,  when  Nathan  Roach  exhibited  his  daring 
feat,  she  was  out  for  the  first  time  in  many  days  seeking  a  respite 


GUY  RAYMOND.  451 

from  an  ever  encroaching  ailment  which  seemed  to  he  draining  the 
fountain  of  her  vitality.  She  discovered,  when  too  late,  the  true 
character  of  the  step  she  had  taken,  and  realizing  the  impossibility 
of  a  retracement  that  could  reunite  broken  ties  or  obliterate  the 
lapses  from  propriety,  she  determined  to  meet  the  future  with  the 
stoicism  of  her  peculiar  disposition.  She  therefore  settled  down  to 
the  condition  imposed  by  the  inevitable,  just  tolerating  the  man  who 
had  ruined  her  and,  who  was  not  further  lowered  in  her  estimation 
by  the  knowledge  of  the  stain  which  rested  upon  his  birth. 

Her  health  was  failing. 

This  she  realized  without  even  a  self  inquiry  if  it  were  to  be 
attributed  to  physical  or  mental  causes,  or  to  a  combination  of  both. 

The  discovery  of  the  treasure  had  enriched  them  beyond  the  fear 
of  ever  wanting  for  the  luxuries  of  life,  but  the  fortune  had  failed 
to  bring  happiness.  Ducio  was  wild  and  dissipated  and  she  saw  but 
little  of  him. 

The  next  morning  after  Ducio's  interview  with  Laoni  he  was 
seated  in  his  private  room  at  home,  apparently  in  a  deep  study  over 
some  issue  which  he  had  been  debating  in  his  own  mind.  He  arose 
and  paced  the  room  a  few  moments,  then  going  to  an  old-fashioned 
press  which  stood  in  a  recess  to  the  left  of  the  mantel,  he  produced 
a  vial,  which  he  held  up  for  inspection  a  moment,  then  shook  it 
while  he  reached  for  a  goblet  on  a  table.  Into  this  he  poured  a 
small  quantity  of  the  liquid  from  the  vial,  and  afterwards  diluted 
it  with  water  from  a  pitcher.  He  regarded  the  decoction  for  a  while 
as  if  to  decide  upon  the  proportion  of  its  composites,  then,  as  if  to 
assure  himself,  said  aloud: 

"That  is  larger  than  the  addition  I  should  have  made,  but  the 
prescription  seems  too  slow  to  me.  She's  got  a  constitution  like  a 
mule.  It  is  a  wonder  she  don't  suspect  me,  but  that's  where  I  am 
a  successful  villain.  I  am  all  tenderness  when  I  am  with  her,  and 
have  never  done  a  thing  to  make  her  think  that  I  am  tired  of  her. 
True,  I  am  much  away,  but  she  has  become  used  to  that.  I  will 
now  go  and  give  her  this  medicine,  and  trust  its  effect  will  be  all 
that  is  desired — by  me." 

Leaving  the  room  he  crossed  the  hall  and  entered  a  door,  which 
he  closed  behind  him.  The  atmosphere  of  the  apartment  seemed 
purer  with  the  rascal's  exit — the  tick  of  the  mantel  clock  came  clearer 
and  lighter.  Through  the  half  open  door  of  the  press  the  vial  from 
which  the  potion  was  dropped  into  the  goblet  showed  itself  nearly 
filled  with  its  pinkish  contents,  while  the  broad-mouthed  pitcher 

<l  stately  and  white  upon  the  enameled  waiter  overlooking  the- 
down-turned  goblH*  by  its  side. 


452  GUY  RAYMOND. 

Several  minutes  passed  before  Ducio  returned. 

"Another  week  will  settle  it,"  he  said,  as  he  rinsed  the  now  empty 
glass,  and  threw  the  water  into  the  fireplace.  "'Another  week — and 
I  can  bring  this  strangely  bewitching  Indian  here,  if  I  manage  to 
keep  down  all  suspicion  of  the  part  I  am  playing.  Laoni !  A  pretty 
name.  If  I  am  not  sentimental  I  am  drifting  that  way.  Strange, 
too — and  about  a  squaw!  Come,  Ducio!  For  shame!" 

"Now  to  George's,"  he  continued,  taking  his  hat.  "The  rascal 
sent  for  me,  and  I  suppose,  as  usual,  to  bleed  me." 


Hamilton  and  Nathan  kept  their  appointment  to  meet  at  George's. 
The  Mississippian  was  much  amused  at  his  companion's  story  of  the 
interesting  Indian  and  the  details  of  their  two  interviews  at  the  show 
window.  Nathan  however  suppressed  that  part  of  the  conversation 
with  Laoni  which  referred  to  Guy  Raymond,  as  he  was  rather  tickled 
by  an  intimation  from  Hamilton  that  the  pretty  squaw  must  be  in 
love  with  him.  At  George's  they  entered,  and  Hamilton  called  for 
a  luncheon  with  coffee.  The  proprietor,  who  was  not  present  at  first, 
soon  entered.  He  was  keenly  eyed  by  Hamilton,  who  mentally  com- 
pared him  with  the  description  he  possessed. 

"Roach,  that's  the  man." 

"What  man?" 

"The  man  who  knows  something  about  the  missing  pot  of  money 
that  belonged  to  Guy  Raymond." 

"Whew !     You  don't  say  so." 

"A  little  lower  tone,  Roach." 

"Kin  yer  make  him  tell— think?" 

"That's  to  be  seen.     I've  spotted  him — and  that's  one  step. 

"Yes — but  they  say  he's  a  slick  un." 

"Things  naturally  develop,  Mr.  Roach.  Evolution  does  not  stop 
with  material  things;  facts  are  evolved  from  theories;  we  assimilate 
facts  and  make  deductions.  Now,  by  this  process — 

"Look  here,  Hamilton,  that's  'bout  'nuff  o'  that.    What  in  thunder 
yer  talkin'  'bout?     I  sorter  thought  yer  got  cured  of  yer  old  d 
temper." 

."Roach,  I'm  dumb." 

"No,  man;  talk  sense.    Yer  knows  how  ef  yer  want  to." 

"We,  Nathan — we'll  keep  him  spotted  'til  Guy  Raymond  comes 

"That's  what  we  kin  do.  I've  "promised  to  stay  a  few  days  ef  I 
have  to  roll  cotton." 


monev 

op 
ite 

lei- 

I 

:  I 


GUY  RAYMOND.  453 

"No  use  of  that,  Roach.     Draw  on  me.     By  the  way,  I  have  a 
tip-top  place,  old  boy.     Come,  Fll  show  it  to  you." 
The  two  went  out  together. 


Ducio  called  at  George's  in  response  to  the  latter's  message,  and 
was  received,  as  he  usually  was,  in  the  room  in  rear  of  the  saloon. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  asked  of  the  ex-pirate. 

"Nothing  serious;  but  I  wish  to  say  that  yesterday  a  lot  of 
fellows  landed  here  from  Texas,  and  one  of  them  named  Hamilton 
came  here  with  the  man  who  stopped  your  team.  He  eyed  me  so 
sharply  and  strangely  that  I  concluded  he  knew  something  of  my 
past,  and  possibly  he  might  have  got  wind  of  that  operation  of  ours 
in  the  sandhills." 

"Hamilton !  There  was  such  a  man  in  a  mess  I  was  with  in  the 
array.  Describe  him." 

"Large,  tall  and  handsome,  hair  brown  and  wavy,  nose  a  little 
raised  in  the  middle." 

"That's  him." 

"Any  danger?" 

"Think  not;  he  knows  the  papers  were  stolen;  but  no  one  knows 
who  stole  them." 

"So  you  believe." 

"So  I  know." 

"Maybe  so." 

"Well,  watch  him,  George,  if  he  returns ;  and  if  you  find  a  chance, 
sound  him." 

ffYour  commands  will  be  obeyed ;  but  see  here,  Halfen ;  this  is 
work — work  for  your  benefit.  I've  done  up  two  or  three  things  for 
you  that  have  been  thanky  jobs." 

"But,  George,  in  this  you  would  be  implicated.  If  this  fellow 
has  a  clue,  and  his  suspicions  are  excited  by  your  presence,  who  is 
interested  and  who  is  it  that  is  giving  the  thing  away  ?  See  ?" 

"T^at  is  true;  but  what  have  I  to  lose  in  comparison  to  you ?  The 
way  things  have  been  working  lately  I'd  not  be  loser  if  you  were  flat 
broke.  See?" 

"You  say  the  fellow  who  stopped  my  horses  was  with  him?" 

"He  was." 

"Better  win  him  over — you  know  how  to  work  it.  If  anything 
turns  up,  send  me  word  at  once.  I  have  something  very  important 
to  attend  to  and  must  be  off.  Au  revoir." 

Mrs.  Raymond  slept  late  the  morning  after  her  visit  to  the  chief 
of  police.  Her  head  had  been  set  on  finding  the  Indian  girl  more 


454  GUY  RAYMOND. 

from  a  determination  to  not  be  outwitted  than  from  any  personal 
consideration  for  the  missing  one.  It  was  therefore  among  the  sms 
hours  when  she  and  Stella  passed  from  consciousness  and  discussi< 
into  dreamland.  Stella,  who  was  first  up  in  the  morning,  made 
startling  discovery.  Burglars  had  evidently  been  in  their  apartment, 
as  the  blinds  on  the  veranda  had  been  forced  and  the  sash  was  up. 
She  arose  and  closed  the  blind,  and  took  a  glance  around  to  see  if 
she  could  detect  any  evidences  of  their  work.  Her  aunt  was  sleeping 
soundly  and  she  refrained  from  disturbing  her  until  the  desire  to 
communicate  the  probable  robbery  overcame  her. 

"Aunt  Ida!     Aunt  Ida!     Robbers  have  been  in  our  room." 

Mrs.  Raymond  sprang  from  her  bed,  having  quickly  compre- 
hended what  the  words  of  her  niece  implied,  for  they  placed  in 
jeopardy  her  valuable  jewelry,  laid  away  nightly  in  her  wardrobe. 

"Gracious,  child !     How  do  you  know  ?"  • 

"See,  Aunt  Ida — the  blinds — three  slats  cut  out  and  a  piece  of 
glass  from  the  sash." 

"My  God  !     My  diamonds !" 

She  sprang  to  her  wardrobe.  The  case  was  there — the  diamonds 
gone.  The  lady  sank  to  a  chair,  put  her  head  in  her  palms,  and  the 
tears  trickled  through  her  fingers. 

"What  is  missing,  Aunty?" 

"Oh,  child  !     All  gone." 

"You'll  get  them  again,  Aunty.     Don't  distress  yourself." 

"See   if   you   have   lost   anything,   my   child." 

"fl.  Aunty?     I  have  so  little  to  lose.     There's  my  box  with 
ribbons,    and   that   medal   Mr.    Trigg   sent  to   me,   and    a  pin   and 
bracelet,"  said  Stella,  taking  her  box  from  a  shelf  and  opening  it. 

She. paled  a  little  as  she  raised  her  eyes  from  the  open  box 
caught  her  aunt's  look  of  inquiry. 

"Aunty,  they  have  robbed  poor  me,  too.     Pin  a.nd  bracelet 
gone — and — the — medal." 

"The  villains!"  exclaimed  her  aunt. 

"I  wouldn't  mind  my  loss,  Aunty,  if  your  diamonds  had  nc 
been  taken.  Still,  I  felt  so  much  attached  to  that  pretty  medal  wil 
its  snowy  beadwork." 

"A  fine  police  force  they  must  have  here!  The  chief  him* 
looks  brimful  of  stupidity.  I  suppose  this  will  necessitate  nnotl 
trip  to  Place  D'Armes."  ' 


When   Ducio   left   George's   he   drove   rapidly   for   several   blocks 
and  halted  his  team  in  front  of  a  shop  which  displayed  the 


GUY  RAYMOND.  455 

golden  balls.  He  entered  the  place  and  greeted  the  sole  occupant 
with  familiarity. 

"Jacques,  I'm  in  a  quandary.  I  want  to  make  a  holiday  present 
to  a  girl — a  young  woman — a  friend  of  mine,  and  I  don't  know  what 
in  the  world  to  select.  Maybe  yon  can  help  me  out." 

"Well,  monsieur,  if  you  will  tell  me  something  about  the  tastes 
of  mademoiselle,  I  may  be  capable  to  decide  for  you/' 

"Tastes !  I  don't  know  much  of  her  taste,  but  I  will  say  this, 
that  she's  an  Indian — but  a  devilish  fine  Indian — a  real  lady  and 
pretty  as  a  pink." 

"But  a  dark  pink,  I  believe,  monsieur,  if  she  is  an  Indian." 

"Only  a  figure  of  speech,  Jacques.  I  might  have  said  pretty 
as  a  lily  and  it  would  have  been  as  applicable." 

"Well,  monsieur,  I  think  I  have  the  very  article  you  should  have 
for  the  Indian  lady.  It  is  a  medal,  monsieur,  and  only  brought  in 
this  morning.  I  paid  more  than  I  should  as  it  was  so  odd — so 
unique." 

The  man  held  up  the  article  he  was  praising,  and  it  was  a 
remarkably  showy  trinket  of  Indian  manufacture,  attached  to  a 
si  her  medal. 

"This  might  serve  my  purpose  if  the  girl  is  a  Catholic,  and  of 
this  f  am  ignorant." 

"It  is  pretty  enough  for  a  Protestant,  monsieur,  and  plenty  cheap 
to  make  you  decide  to  buy  it." 

"'How  much?" 

"Three  dollars,  monsieur." 

"A  bargain,  Jacques;    I   believe  it  is  just  the  thing/' 

"The  price  is  an  argument,  monsieur,  that  often  decides  if  a 
present  shall  be  suitable." 

"With  some,  I  grant  you,  mon  ami;  but  with  your  humble  servant 
price  would  not  be  a  bar  1o  getting  what  I  thought  would  serve  my 
purpose,  in  this  instance,  especially." 

"Is  there  nothing  else — nothing1  to  suit  madame?  She  was  here 
willi  you  some  months  ago,  and  much  admired  these  diamonds." 

"There  is  something  else,"  replied  Ducio,  a?  if  noticing  only 
the  first,  part  of  the  other's  inquiry.  "Here,  Jacques,  this  preif.y 
box,  wilh  the  enameled  top;  it  will  do  to  hold  the  medal.  Lay  if 
in  so  That  tlie  beadwork  will  cover  the  bottom  with  the  medal  dis- 
played in  the  centre." 

Ducio  superintended  1lie  arrangement  of  the  medal  in  the  box, 
and  when  the  whole  had  been  neaily  wrapped  and  secured  with  cord, 
he  took  the  package  and  re-entered  his  vehicle. 


456  GUY  EAYMOND. 

Hamilton  and  Nathan  Koach,  in  order  to  carry  out  their  purpose 
to  discover  the  character  of  the  connecting  link  between  Ducio  and 
George,  passed  much  of  their  time  at  the  cafe  kept  by  the  latter. 
George,  in  pursuit  of  Ducio's  aim  to  learn  what  Hamilton  might 
know  or  suspect  of  his  connection  with  the  abstraction  of  the  treasure 
from  the  sandhills,  made  himself  very  agreeable  to  both  the  latter 
and  his  backwoods  friend.  To  Nathan  he  extended  illimitable  hos- 
pitality under  cover  of  admiration  for  his  proven  daring  in  the  arrest 
of  the  runaway  team.  To  Hamilton  he  was  attentive  and  courteously 
polite.  Nathan,  honest  and  unsuspecting,  received  his  advances  with 
good  will,  but  insisted  on  paying  for  whatever  he  ordered  in  the 
establishment.  He  refused  also  to  be  pumped,  when  the  host  so  far 
trenched  upon  the  borders  of  the  secret,  confided  by  Hamilton,  as 
to  make  the  step  easy  and  natural  that  would  pass  the  bounds  that 
guarded  it.  The  oft  repeated  approach  which  the  conversation  made 
in  this  direction  when,,  and  only  when,  the  participants  were  con- 
fined to  himself  and  the  gracious  host  of  the  cafe,  finally  aroused 
the  usually  dormant  suspicions  of  the  Arkansan,  and  he  communi- 
cated to  Hamilton  this  peculiarity  in  George's  intercourse  with  him- 
self. Hamilton,  with  sharper  wits  than  his  friend,  and  less  con- 
scientious about  making  an  account  with  the  proprietor,  already  was 
conscious  of  a  score  against  him  on  the  slate  of  the  cafe.  He  resolved 
to  lead  George  on,  step  by  step,  to  a  tacit  acknowledgment  of  Ducio's 
perpetration  of  the  robbery  of  the  sandhills  and,  to  succeed,  he  felt 
the  necessity  of  the  ex-pirate's  induction  into  more  or  less  drunks 
of  a  degree  to  induce  loquacity  and  confidence.  George,  on  his  part, 
had  become  convinced  that  Nathan's  simplicity  was  assumed,  and 
that  his  abstemiousness  was  the  guarded  role  of  the  detective.  Ham- 
iltons'  looseness  and  convivial  disposition  deceived  him  completely, 
and  he  soon  began  to  feel  perfectly  at  home  with  the  Mississippian. 

While  this  state  of  affairs  was  in  existence  at  George's,  other 
events  pertinent  to  this  story  were  transpiring  in  the  city.  Mrs. 
Kaymond  had,  as  a  matter  of  course,  informed  the  police  of  the  loss 
of  her  diamonds  and  of  the  little  trinkets  of  her  niece.  The  wise 
eyes  of  the  detectives  had  inspected  her  rooms  and  viewed  the  cut 
blinds  and  broken  sash,  and  minute  descriptions  of  the  jewels  and 
articles  taken  had  been  noted.  The  disconsolate  lady  had  offered 
an  appropriate  reward,  the  detectives  bowed  and  departed,  and  there, 
for  the  time,  the  matter  rested. 

Beatrice  was  over  to  offer  her  sympathy  as  a  solace  for  the  dis- 
tress occasioned  by  the  losses  of  her  friends.  For  the  nonce  the 
robbery  nearly,  if  not  quite,  obliterated  the  interest  which,  for  the 
day  or  two  previous,  had  grown  to  large  proportions,  in  the  case  of 


GUY  RAYMOND.  457 

the  Indian  girl.  The  aunt  was  as  ono  bereaved  for  two  or  three  days, 
and  refused  to  obey  the  recurring  inclination  to  promenade  Canal 
street,  or  even  to  appear  in  evening  dress,  with  powdered  face  and 
artistically  tinged  cheeks,  in  the  drawing  rooms  of  the  hotel.  Stella 
regretted  her  loss,  but  grieved  for  her  aunt's  perplexity. 

How  was  it  with  Laoni  ?  One — two — three  days  passed  since 
Dueio  elicited  her  sympathy  by  the  relation  of  his  wife's  demise,  and 
evoked  her  gratitude  by  the  offer  of  his  friendship  and  patronage. 
She  experienced  a  quiet,  happy  mini,  in  which  was  contemplated  a 
satisfactory  solution  of  hor  difficulties.  Tn  this  future  Ducio  assumed 
a  fraternal  role,  which  placed  him  high  upon  the  plane  of  disin- 
terested huTnanity  and  softened  to  her  Indian  mind  the  harshness 
which  white  civilization  soomod  to  omit  from  beneath  its  cover  of 
selfishness  and  greorl.  In  the  glamour  of  the  picture,  born  of  sus- 
picion of  right  nnd  truth  in  her  environment,  Laoni  boheld  the 
roe-r-oant  Ducio.  hand  in  hand  with  El  Bravo,  the  lost  love  of  the 
San  Saba,  pouring1  out  his  heart's  thanks  for  the  care  bestowed  upon 
the  daughter  of  Walvnnpta.  The  dav  thoughts  merged  into  night 
visions — the  reverie  blended  into  the  dream. 

For  the  first  time  since  El  Bravo  left  her  ;upon  the  mountain 
side  Laoni  approached  near  the  goal  of  a  remembered  happiness, 
almost  to  the  brink  of  a  treasured  joy.  Around  her  were  friendship 
am'  favor — almost  in  reach  the  dearest  of  hopes.  In  this  mood  of 
perfect  content  did  Laoni  remain  until  the  return  of  him  to  whom 
was  due  the  charm  of  the  lagging  hours.  She  stood  at  the  casement 
surveying  the  metropolitan  scene  over  which  the  partial  season  had 
spread  the  mellowness  of  a  balmy  atmosphere.  The  genial  tempera- 
ture had  nearly  depopulated  the  dwellings,  and  brought  to  the  streets 
the  populace,  gay  in  manner  and  costumes.  From  the  pavements 
her  eyes  turned  away  across  the  piles  of  masonry,  little  heeding  the 
picture  of  turrets  and  towers,  of  chimneys  and  corners,  of  walls  and 
angles,  in  her  deeper  reflection  upon  the  oddities  of  this  white  civi- 
lization. There  was  so  little  of  freedom  in  this  pent-up  life,  devoted 
to  money  getting,  with  so  little  of  the  natural  in  the  aims  and  aspi- 
rations of  a  purely  artificial  existence.  Away  out  on  the  far  away 
San  Saba  her  thought?  took  refuge  as  if  to  rest  from  the  contem- 
plation of  the  babel  before  her.  The  serene  hills,  the  grand  moun- 
tains, the  stretching  plains,  the  green  mottes  and  blue  lines  of  timber 
of  her  native  place  rose  before  her,  and  her  heart  yearned  for  the 
home  of  her  tribe.  Was  not  its  freedom  and  quiet  superior  to  the 
restraint  and  friction  of  the  huddled  masses  of  this  great  city?  Bo- 
wjrh  her  eyes  a  carnival  of  noiso  and  acting  was  in  progress  in 
honor  of  the  nativity  of  the  God  of  the  white  people.  Among  the 


458  GUY  EAYMOND. 

passers  were  men,  reeling  from  the  effects  of  liquor,  whose  shouts 
added  to  the  din  of  the  explosion  of  small  arms,  torpedoes  and  fire- 
crackers, while  small  boys  jeered  and  stoned  the  inebriates.  Laoni 
thought  of  the  first  lessons  she  received  from  Guy  upon  the  subject 
of  the  Christian  faith,  suggested  by  the  display  of  her  medal.  She 
remembered  how  strange  and  incongruous  sounded  to  her  ears  the 
story  of  the  incarnation  and  the  redemption,  and  how  El  Bravo 
doubted  the  supernatural  origin  of  Jesus.  Since  then  she  had  come 
in  contact  with  the  saintly  sisters  of  the  convent  at  Grande  Coteau, 
and  had  been  taught  the  faith  by  its  ablest  advocates.  She  loved  her 
teachers  and  respected  their  pious  zeal,  but  her  first  impressions 
refused  to  give  place  to  an  unseeing  faith.  She  demanded  reason 
in  the  religion  of  her  acceptance — as  her  ideal  of  the  Supreme  Being 
was  the  essence  of  reason  as  he  was  the  spirit  of  truth  and  justice. 
Her  contact  with  Christian  civilization  had  not  been  calculated  to 
excite  her  enthusiasm  for  its  practical  workings.  She  could  not 
acknowledge  the  claims  of  a  system  that  confined  its  excellencies  to 
rules,  rubrics  and  theories.  To  her  mind  Christianity,  despite  the 
unreason  of  its  claims  to  a  divine  origin,  could  be  a  useful  factor  in 
the  upbuilding  of  humanity  only  by  its  strict,  practical  application, 
whereas,  from  her  standpoint,  it  was  an  enthroned  myth,  for  con- 
sideration, mostly  by  females,  one  day  in  seven,  and  to  become  wholly 
neglected  and  ignored  the  other  six  days.  These  might  be  the  con- 
clusions of  her  rude  Lipan  intellect,  but  they  were  irresistible, 
refused  to  be  laid  aside. 

Since  Ducio's  noble  offer  of  his  friendship,  her  heart  had  som 
what  softened,  and  she  thought  if  Christians  generally  could  be 
actuated  by  their  religion  to  carry  out  the  spirit  of  the  golden  rule 
as  he  had  done,  they  could  make  many  converts  who  would  be  rather 
affected  by  the  results  of  the  faith,  than  by  the  justice  of  its  claims 
to  have  been  organized  above  the  clouds. 

While  Laoni  was  thus  mentally  constituting  Ducio  an  ideal 
Christian,  she  caught  sight  of  that  worthy  crossing  the  street.  Their 
eyes  met  as  she  drew  back,  and  he  waved  his  hand  pleasantly  just 
before  he  disappeared  beneath  the  projecting  veranda.  She  judged 
that  he  was  about  to  enter  the  house,  and  a  presentiment  warned 
her  that  he  would  call  for  her. 

Her  impression  was  correct.  The  housekeeper  some  minutes  later 
appeared  and  stated  that  the  master  desired  to  see  her  and,  if  she 
did  not  object,  would  see  her  in  her  room. 

"It's  a  half  sitting  room   anyhow,"   said    tlio  housekeeper, 
you  are  such  a  tidy  creature  your  room  is  always  in  order,'3 


JUil- 

™a 

me- 





GUY  EAYMOND.  459 

Laoni,  seeing  no  impropriety  in  admitting  her  new  friend  to  her 
room,  assented;  and  having  no  face  powder  or  hair  to  arrange,  or 
cairiosity  to  gratify  by  glancing  in  the  mirror,  assented  at  once. 

She  was  more  at  ease  when  Ducio  entered  than  was  the  villain 
himself,  for  in  her  artlessness  she  was  purely  optimistic,  and  in  her 
innocence  suspected  nothing  but  kindness  from  her  avowed  protector. 

The  talk  began  about  the  usual  way,  and  on  the  one  side  about 
everything  but  what  was  uppermost  in  his  mind. 

"You  have  not  made  up  your  mind  what  I  shall  do  yet?"  she 
asked,  after  a  pause  in  the  conversation. 

"Not  exactly,"  he  replied.  "I've  had  you  a  great  deal  in  my 
thoughts,  because  I  knew  you  would  be  lonesome  up  here  with  only 
the  housekeeper  to  see.  I  have  kept  in  seclusion  since  my  sad  luck, 
but  as  tomorrow  will  be  Christmas,  I  thought  it  would  be  best  to 
shake  off  sadness  and  share  in  the  current  of  joy  that  should  only 
be  felt  in  this  time  when  Christ  proclaimed  peace  on  earth  and  good 
will  to  men.  Besides  it  is  not  manly  to  grieve.  Your  warriors  are 
fine  examples  of  the  manly  spirit.  They  look  upon  death  with  a 
cool  and  calm  philosophy  which  puts  religion  to  the  blush." 

"Yet  you  are  a  Christian." 

"I  try  to  be." 

"It  seems  that  all  try  and  few  ever  succeed." 

"Pretty  true.    Did  the  convent  convert  you?" 

"As  a  respecter  for  the  institution — yes.  Some  of  the  nuns  are 
pure  and  holy  women.  As  to  religion — I  am  a  Lipan  still,  at  least, 
in  my  unbelief." 

"I  have  often  wished  that  I  were  an  Indian,"  said  Ducio  with 
a  sigh.  "I  am  tired  of  this  thing  they  call  civilization.  It  is  hypoc- 
risy from  beginning  to  end." 

"Are  you  in  earnest?"  asked   Laoni. 

"In  earnest?  If  I  could  fly  from  here  tomorrow  I  would  not 
stop  until  I  reached  the  lodges  of  a  natural  people,  lifted  above  the 
contamination  which  comes  of  chasing  after  money.  If  I  could  find 
a  tribe  who  would  receive  me  and  treat  me  like  a  brother,  I  would 
pledge  my  life  to  its  service." 

"Oh!"  thought  Laoni.     "If  El  Bravo  had  been  of  this  mind." 

"You  will  change,"  she  said  to  him.  "You  are  now  affected  by 
the  loss  of  your  wife.  A  little  time  will  bring  back  the  contentment 
you  had  before.  You  will  stay  with  your  own  people." 

"To  tell  you  the  honest  truth,  Laoni,  I  was  never  liappy  with 
my  wife — in  fact,  we  were  never  congenial.  For  the  sake  of  ap|><'ar- 
ann's  we  kept  up  a  semblance  of  harmony,  and  if  I  speak  truthfully, 
I  will  say  that  I  am  relieved  that  death  has  cut  the  tie  which  the 


460  GUY  RAYMOND. 

policy  of  the  church  made  it  decline  to  sever.     Laoni,  I  have  never 
loved  but  once,  and  then  it  was  not  my  wife  who  roused  the  feeling." 

"My  poor  friend,  I  am  sorry  for  you.  But  the  one  you  did  love? 
She  never  knew  it,  as  you  could  not  tell  her  while  the  wife  was 
living." 

"Your  are  right.  It  has  not  been  many  days  since  I  met  this 
love.  I  could  not  tell  it  to  her — for  the  woman  who  called  me  hus- 
band still  lingered.  I  crushed  down  the  feeling  until  iny  heart 
fairly  bled  in  the  throes  of  my  struggle  to  keep  from  speaking — to 
keep  from  throwing  myself  at  her  feet  and  confessing  all." 

"Poor  man,"  said  Laoni ;  and  then,  putting  her  hand  to  her  brow 
as  if  to  help  her  thoughts,  she  said  aside:  "This  wild,  true  love! 
How  like  the  passion  that  fills  my  heart.  Oh !  El  Bravo !" 

"Laoni,  you  pity  me.  If  I  should  tell  you  of  this  woman — if  I 
should  own  the  truth — trusting  to  your  generous  sympathy  to  not 
hate  me  for  the  confession — would  you  still  pity  me — would  you  still 
call  me  friend,  and  try  to  soothe  my  wounded  heart?" 

"Love  is  a  holy  feeling,"  she  said.  "Why  should  I  hate  you  for 
this  confession?  You  come  to  me  as  a  friend  to  ease  your  bosom 
of  a  secret  that  weighs  upon  you.  You  have  my  sympathy.  Why  not 
go  to  this  woman,  and  if  your  love  is  honorable — tell  it  in  her  ear. 
Perhaps  she  will  learn  to  love  you  if  her  heart  is  not  another's." 

"Your  words  are  comforting.  I  have  known  her  only  since  the 
day  I  met  you,  Laoni.  The  hour  I  spoke  to  her  was  the  hour  you 
first  heard  my  voice.  The  woman  I  love  is  an  Indian — the  mother 
who  bore  her  was  the  mother  of  Laoni — and  Laoni  had  never  a  sister." 

"Is  this  the  truth?" 

"Aye,  the  truth,"  said  Ducio,  throwing  himself  beside  her.  "Laoni, 
accept  my  love.  It  is  the  most  costly  gift  I  can  offer  you — you  who 
are  in  the  midst  of  an  unsympathizing  race  of  strangers — without 
other  protection  than  mine.  Think  of  it,  Laoni — think  before  you 
answer." 

"Think  of  it  ?  Think  of  my  answer  ?  It  would  be  useless  thought. 
My  friend,  if  I  were  to  think  from  now  until  the  weight  of  years  will 
have  brought  me  to  the  grave,  what  would  be  my  answer — if  in  my 
troubled  sleep  every  dream  should  be  filled  with  this  scene  and  the 
memory  of  your  words,  thoughts  and  dreams  alike  would  conjure  the 
presence  of  one  to  whom  iny  heart  has  long  been  given — and  the 
answer  would  be  the  same  as  it  must  be  now.  My  sympathy  and  my 
friendship  you  have  won— without  asking.  I  have  no  love  to  give." 

"Then  there  is  no  hope  for  me?"  said  Ducio,  rising  and  walkii 
the  floor. 

"You  have  had  my  answer." 


give. 
liking 


GUY  "RAYMOND.  hi  i 

"Does  he  love  you?" 

"You  have  no  right  to  ask.  It  would  be  the  same  if  lie  did  not 
love  me.  If  he  loves  another  and  is  happy,  I  will' try  to  purge  the 
selfish  from  my  love  and  be  content.  I  would  not  boast  of  love 
which  would  refuse  to  make  sacrifice  for  the  loved  one." 

"Laoni,  I  cannot  be  content  with  your  answer,  but  will  return 
another  time  and  press  my  suit.  If  you  still  decide  that  we  cannot 
be  more  than  friends,  then  I  will  yield.  In  the  meantime,  let  me 
be  your  protector,  and  prove  that  I,  too,  can  tear  the  selfish  from 
my  love.  I  brought  you  this  little  token  for  a  Christmas  present.  I 
knew  not  of  your  views  on  religion,  but  as  I  brought  it,  I  will  leave 
it,  and  trust  you  will  find  in  it  a  pretty  relic — besides  being  partly 
the  handiwork  of  the  Indians." 

She  took  the  box  from  him,  thanked  him,  and  placed  it  upon 
the  table. 

Ducio  took  his  departure  with  a  look  of  disappointment,  while 
a  sinister  expression  flashed  from  his  dark  eyes. 

As  soon  as  she  was  alone  Laoni  opened  the  pretty  box  containing 
the  gift.  She  raised  the  fine  pink  packing,  and  uttered  a  low  cry 
as  she  recognized  the  medal  which  had  once  rested  upon  her  bosom. 
She  did  not  faint  nor  did  she  sink  into  a  chair.  Her  eye  glowed 
with  a  fire  that  was  kindled  by  the  emotions  of  wonder,  doubt  and 
conjecture. 

The  gift  she  had  made  to  El  Bravo!  Could  lie  have  arrived 
in  the  city,  and  if  so,  how  came  he  to  part  with  the  medal  ?  Mur- 
dered and  robbed,  or  simply  robbed,  and  by  whom?  By  this  alleged 
friend  and  protector?  Perhaps — perhaps  not.  A  mystery?  He  was 
doubtless  yet  in  the  house.  She  would  go  and  demand  an  explana- 
tion.. To  this  end  she  left  her  apartment  in  pursuit  of  Ducio. 

He  was  not  in  the  sitting  room.  The  housekeeper's  room  was 
empty,  but  Laoni  heard  voices  on  the  back  gallery  immediately 
under  the  latter  apartment.  This  alone  would  not  have  made  her 
pause.  The  tone  and  the  words  which  caught  her  cnr  caused  her 
to  approach  still  closer  the  window  and  listen.  Ducio  was  talking. 

a'She  is  a  sentimental  fool.     Imagine  a  squaw  wilh   sentiment!" 

"Not  much  of  a  fool,"  said  the  housekeeper. 

"True  enough.  I  went  in  bold,  but  her  manner  made  a  coward 
of  me,  and  my  tactics  were  changed  to  real  love  making.  You  should 
have  heard  the  stuff  I  spit  out,  and  which  she  swallowed." 

"But  didn't  digest." 

"Not  much.  But  I  will  bring  this  girl  to  her  senses  if  I  have 
to  drug  her  into  it." 

30 


462  GUT  RAYMOND. 


"She  ain't  worth  it,  Ducio." 

"Maybe  not;  but  my  dander  is  up  and  I  mean  to  win.  I  will 
come  tomorrow  and  give  her  a  last  chance.  Then  she  will  be  my 
prisoner  and  my  slave.  She  is  unsuspecting  now,  and  needs  no 
watching.  I  left  her  a  bauble  which  I  bought  of  Jacques,  and  which 
will  amuse  her  until  I  return." 

Laoni  was  much  surprised  as  well  as  alarmed  by  what  she  heard 
fall  from  the  lips  of  her  supposed  friend  and  protector.  Her  natural 
step  was  to  conceal  the  fact  of  her  having  overheard  the  conversation 
just  narrated,  and  she  therefore  hastened  back  to  her  room.  Here 
she  considered  the  situation.  A  continued  stay  in  the  house  which 
in  the  earlier  hours  of  the  day  had  appeared  to  her  so  pleasant,  and 
had  induced  her  to  recant  many  of  her  mental  strictures  on  the 
worthiness  of  the  Christian  civilization,  was  now  out  of  the  question. 
She  stood  aghast  at  the  hypocrisy  that  could  assume  the  role  of 
sentiment  and  earnestness,  as  did  Ducio.  She  did  not  dream  that 
the  worst  features  of  social  depravity  could  so  successfully  masque- 
rade under  the  form  of  lofty  sentiment. 

She  comprehended  her  clanger  well,  and  in  the  thought  of  it 
she  ceased  to  speculate  upon  the  presence  of  the  medal.  The  latter 
she  placed  upon  her  bosom;  the  handsome  box  was  unceremoniously 
pitched  into  the  closet  in  the  corner.  Laoni  had  no  definite  plan 
of  escape,  but  calmly  awaited  night  and  a  quiet  house.  She  did 
not  dare  to  wait  too  late  for  fear  of  walking  the  dark  streets  alone. 
Her  little  bag  was  packed,  and  nine  o'clock  found  her  under  the 
gas  light  of  the  nearest  corner.  Here  she  hesitated.  Where  should 
she  turn  her  steps  to  avoid  the  encounter  of  the  roughs  of  civiliza- 
tion? In  all  the  wide  world  there  were  but  two  places  in  which 
an  undoubted  welcome  would  be  hers — the  village  where  she  was 
born — the  convent  at  Grande  Coteau.  The  realization  that  the 
danger  she  had  escaped  was  greater  far  than  any  she  had  to  dread 
in  the  streets  nerved  her  to  proceed.  She  moved  aimlessly  on.  At 
length  a  thought  suggested  itself.  Why  not  find  the  Convent  of 
the  Sacred  Heart  in  the  city  and  appeal  for  protection?  She  would 
a.sk  direction  from  passers  by.  These  she  met,  but  they  hurried  on, 
and  were  gone  before  the  words  could  fall  from  her  lips.  One  or 
two,  in  less  haste,  presented  appearances  so  forbidding  that  she 
feared  to  confide  to  them  her  ignorance.  At  the  next  corner  she 
met  a  policeman.  She  knew  him  by  his  badge,  and  felt  no  hesi- 
tation in  accosting  him  and  requesting  to  be  directed  to  the  Convent 
of  the  Sacred  Heart. 
•  "It  is  far  from  this,  madam.  Are  you  acquainted  with  the  city  ?" 

"No,  sir,  and  I  would  like  your  advice  and  protection?" 


GUY  RAYMOND.  463 

"That  you  shall  have,  madam,  as  long  as  you  are  in  my  beat, 
but  that  will  not  find  you  the  convent." 

"Could  you  not  show  me  the  way  I  must  go,  and  then  I  could 
get  other  policemen  to  show  me  further  on." 

The  officer  was  about  to  proffer  some  sort  of  advice,  but  sud- 
denly stopped  and  requested  Laoni  to  come  nearer  to  the  light.  She 
complied  at  once. 

"I  just  wanted  to  see  your  face  well,  madam,  for  I  did  not 
know  but  what  I  had  seen  you  before.  Come  along  with  me  and 
I  will  show  you  the  way  and  see  that  no  harm  comes  to  you." 

Laoni  was  grateful  for  the  offer,  and  expressing  her  thanks, 
walked  on  by  the  side  of  the  city's  guardian. 

CHAPTER  LXIII. 


hospitalities  of  the  cafe,  showered  as  they  were  upon  the 
susceptible  Mississippian,  had  the  effect  of  neutralizing  his  purpose 
to  bring  out  the  criminal  connection  existing  between  the  proprietor 
and  the  guilty  Ducio.  Even  Nathan  in  his  simplicity  saw  the 
tendency  of  matters,  and  in  his  quaint  way  urged  upon  his  friend 
the  necessity  for  more  prudence  and  less  indulgence  in  the  con- 
vivialities of  the  place.  Hamilton  would  argue  that  success  depended 
upon  unrestrained  intercourse  and  the  consequent  confidence  it  would 
create  in  the  mind  of  George  that  they  were  ordinary  visitors  and 
patrons.  Notwithstanding  the  quantum  of  truth  contained  in  the 
latter  argument,  Hamilton's  actions  and  the  gusto  with  which  he 
seemed  to  enjoy  the  hours  passed  in  the  resort  in  question  indicated 
that  the  beam  was  tipped  by  the  weight  of  Nathan's  assertion. 

The  night  on  which  Laoni  escaped  from  the  house  on  Custom 
House  street,  Hamilton  and  Nathan  were  as  usual  passing  away  the 
evening  at  the  cafe.  The  two  were  engaged  at  cards,  each  having 
chosen  a  partner  from  among  the  habitues  of  the  resort.  There 
were  few  others  present  besides  their  party,  the  proprietor  and  three 
or  four  loungers.  George  had  been  busy  behind  his  bar  and  was 
for  the  moment  leaning  forward  on  his  elbows  regarding,  in  a 
ratlier  absiraeied  manner,  the  four-handed  game  of  euchre.  His 
attention  was  suddenly  attracted  by  the  entrance  of  a  slight  indi- 
vidual, who  came  to  a  halt  at  the  screen  and  beckoned  to  him. 
<ieor<:e,  having  replied  by  a  nod,  leisurely  passed  from  behind  the 
bar.  and  making  a  jocular  remark  to  the  card  party?  passed  on  out 
to  the  front,  where  the  newcomer  awaited  him. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  queried   George. 


464  GUY  RAYMOND. 


know 


"The  beeks  are  after  me,  and  I've  skipped  them,  hut  they 
my  dives  and  I'm  at  my  wit's  end." 

"What  have  you  forked  last,  that  they're  so  hot  on  your  trail?" 

"Didn't  they  tell  ye?" 

"Not  a  word." 

"We  trapped  the  diamonds,  but  we  feared  to  sell  them  or 
keep  them." 

"Oh!     You  were  with  Jem." 

"That's  it." 

"Have  you  any  of  the  boodle  on  you?" 

"No  more'n  the  ring." 

"I've  rigged  a  play  on  one  of  the  fellers  at  the  table  within.  Do 
as  I  bid  you  and  it  will  lay  the  hounds  off  the  scent.  Look — see 
that  coat  upon  the  peg.  Fool  around  there  a  bit  and  drop  the  ring 
in  ihe  pocket." 

"But  it's  worth  a  pile." 

"So's  your  liberty;  now  choose  between  it  and  the  ring;  to  be 
caught  costs  you  both." 

"Boss,  you're  right;  here  goes." 

The  fellow  entered  the  room  and  a  few  moments  later  had  dex- 
terously deposited  something  in  the  pocket  of  a  coat  hanging  upon 
a  peg  not  far  from  the  table  where  sat  the  card  players.  This 
accomplished  the  fellow  returned  to  the  front  where  George  awaited 
him,  with  a  paper  in  his  hand,  upon  which  he  had  hastily  written 
while  the  other  was  in  the  room. 

"It's  in  the  pocket — what  now  ?" 

"Here,"  said  George,  handing  him  the  paper,  "take  this  to  t 
station  and  see  that  some  of  the  police  get  hold  of  it;  but  take  ca 
that  they  don't  find  out  you  brought  it." 

"Trust  me  for  that,"  said  the  fellow. 

"Be  off  now,,  and  don't  blunder." 

Perhaps  an  hour  might  have  passed  after  George's  messenger 
had  left,  before  any  other  arrival  occurred  at  the  cafe.  The  card 
playing  still  continued,  interrupted  only  by  a  call  for  cigars  or 
something  to  drink,  as  one  or  the  other  side  was  declared  loser. 
The  arrival  alluded  to  was  a  man  of  medium  stature  and  ordinarily 
dressed.  He  entered  with  an  easy  air  and  seated  himself  near  the 
front  screen,  A  few  moments  later  a  second  individual  appeared 
in  the  door,  glanced  around  the  place,  accosted  the  first  arrival, 
and  seating  himself  by  his  side,  began  a  conversation  in  a  low  tone. 

The  time  was  within  an  hour  of  midnight  when  the  card  party 
broke  up  and  the  players  were  about  to  disperse. 

"Come,  Hamilton,  it's  'bout  time  we  was  goin',"  said  Nathan, 


GUY  EAYMOND.  465 

who  thought  he  saw  indications  in  his  friend's  manner  suggesting 
an  inclination  to  linger  yet  longer. 

As  Nathan  spoke  he  took  down  the  coat  from  the  peg  and  leisurely 
put  it  on. 

"I'm  ready,  Nathe,"  said  Hamilton.  "Good  night,  George.  We'll 
give  my  friend  from  Arkansas  and  his  partner  a  chance  to  revenge 
themselves  tomorrow  night." 

"Hold,  gentlemen !"  said  one  of  the  two  men  who  had  last  arrived, 
and  who  maintained  their  positions  near  the  door. 

"We  are  officers  of  the  police,"  he  continued,  "and  have  the 
best  of  reasons  to  suspect  that  some  stolen  property  is  concealed 
upon  one  of  this  party.  As  you  are  doubtless  all  honest  men,  and 
are  not  conscious  of  having  any  such  articles  on  your  persons,  y  >u 
will  not  object  to  being  searched." 

"What  kind  of  articles  do  you  suspect  us  of  having?"  asked 
Hamilton. 

"Diamonds,"  replied  the  policeman.  "Have  you  any  such  things 
about  you?" 

"That's  rich,  eh  Nathe?  To  suspect  us  of  having  diamonds! 
Search  away,  Mr.  Policeman,  and  welcome,"  said  Hamilton. 

"I  never  seen  one  in  my  life/'  said  Nathan,  "though  I  hear'n 
tell  of  'em." 

"I'll  go  through  you  first,  then,"  said  the  officer.  So  saying  he 
ran  his  hand  in  one  pocket,  then  in  another,  and  drew  forth  a  ring. 

"Here  is  something,"  he  said,  and  holding  it  up,  the  jewels 
showed  their  value  by  their  sparkling  brilliancy. 

"This  answers  the  description,  my  friend,  of  what  we  are  after. 
You  will  have  to  go  to  the  station  and  account  for  the  possession 
of  this  ring." 

"How'n  thunder  did  that  git  in  my  pocket?"  exclaimed  Nathan, 
much  astonished. 

The  officer  smiled. 

"There  must  be  some  mistake,"  said  George,  "for  this  man  is 
honest,  I  am  certain." 

"I'd  like  to  see  the  feller  what  'ud  say  the  contrairy,"  said 
Nathan. 

"You  will  have  to  go  with  us  to  the  station.  Come  along  quietly 
;iiid  if  you  can  explain  things  it  will  be  all  right.  The  looks  of 
I  hi  ngs  are  against  you  now,  and  we  hope  you  will  get  out  of  it." 

"Would  yer  go,  Hamilton?" 
ou  will  have  to,  Nathe." 
[ave  to!  And  me  innercent?  I've  fit  greater  odds  than  two." 


466  GUY  EAYMOND. 

"I  will  go  with  you,   Nathan.     Kesistance  would   only  get  y 
into  further  trouble." 

"Well,  boss,  I'll  go;  but  see  that  yer  don't  run  this  thing  in  the 
ground.  Ef  yer  put  that  ring  in  my  pocket,  as  I  s'pects  yer  did, 
fur  to  git  me  inter  trouble,  I'll  live  on  yer  trail  until  I  git  both 
yer  scalps." 

The  party  filed  out  the  door  and  proceeded  down  the  street,  t 
prisoner  between  the  two  officers  and  Hamilton  in  the  rear. 

George  looked  after  them  and  chuckled  as  he  turned  into  his  den. 

"If  he  was  on  my  trail,  I  turned"  the  tables  on  him.  It  was  a 
jolly  thought  of  mine  and  he  will  have  a  hard  time  accounting  for 
the  way  that  ring  came  to  be  in  his  pocket." 

Nathan  occupied  the  attention  of  his  escort,  while  en  route  to 
the  police  headquarters,  with  protestations  of  his  innocence,  inter- 
larded with  hints  as  to  the  danger  which  might  accrue  to  any  pne 
affecting  belief  in  his  guilt. 

"It's  a  put  up  job,"  he  stated,  and  intimated  that  he  would  get 
out  of  it  if  he  had  to  fight  out.  Hamilton's  frequent  suggestions 
that  he  had  better  reserve  his  remarks  for  utterance  before  the 
proper  tribunal,  and  not  waste  them  upon  his  heedless  captors,  had 
the  effect  of  stimulating  the  prisoner's  loquacity. 

The  next  morning,  before  the  opening  of  the  police  court,  the 
chief  had  ordered  that  the  two  prisoners  who  had  been  taken  with 
the  articles  stolen  from  the  apartments  of  Mrs.  Raymond  be  brought, 
separately,  to  his  private  room  to  be  interrogated.  Laoni  was  first 
introduced  in  obedience  to  the  chief's  order.  Her  face  wore  a 
slightly  troubled  expression  as  she  entered  and  turned  her  eyes  from 
the  hard  stare  of  the  officer  around  the  room,  in  half  inquiry  as  to 
why  she  had  been  brought  there.  The  chief,  after  a  few  whispered 
words  to  a  lawyer-like  looking  personage  at  his  side,  addressed  her : 

"Young  woman,  how  long  have  you  been  in  the  city?" 

"Seven  days,"  she  replied. 

"You  are  an  Indian?" 

"A  Lipan." 

"You  have  seen  this  before,"  he  asked,  holding  up  the  m 

taken  from  her  by  the  policeman,  who,  under  the  pretense  of  escort- 
ing her  in  the  direction  of  the  convent,  had  taken  her  to  the  station 
as  his  prisoner. 

"It  is  mine." 

'kUy  what  claim?" 

"My  father's  gift." 

"You  brought  it  with   you  to  the  city?" 

"No." 


»th 

!• 


GUY  EAYMOND.  467 

"Has  your  father  been  in  the  city  since  you  came  to  it?" 

"No/' 

''You  will  have  to  explain  to  make  me  understand  you." 

"It  was  a  gift  to  me  years  ago.  I  gave  it  to  one  who  was  dearer 
to  me  than  myself.  It  can  only  he  his  or  mine.  How  he  parted 
with  it  I  know  not.  The  person  who  put  it  in  my  hands  in  this 
city  can  perhaps  explain,  where  he  got  it.  I  do  not  claim  it  through 
this  person.  The  medal  is  mine,  or  it  is  his  to  whom  I  gave  it." 

"You  refuse  to  tell  where  this  person  got  it  who,  as  you  say, 
put  it  into  your  hands  in  the  last  day  or  two?" 

"I  could  not  tell  you  because  I  do  not  know." 

"Are  you  acquainted  with  a  man  by  the  name  of  Roach — Nathan 
Roach?" 

"Yes;  I  have  met  him  twice." 

"Where?" 

it  the  show  window/' 
lat   show  window?" 
rhere  there  is  a  figure  of  an  Indian." 

"On  Canal  street?" 

Laoni  shook  her  head. 

"Didn't  Nathan  Roach  give  you  this  medal?" 

"No." 


"Who  did,  then?" 


"The  master — he  who  employed  me." 

"His  name?" 

"I  heard  it,  but  it  was  so  short — the  time  I  was  there — that  I 
cannot  remember  it." 

"Why  did  you  leave?" 

"He  was  a  bad,  false  man,  and  I  could  not  stay." 

"But  you  took  his  present." 

"Because  it  was  mine — mine  or- El  Bravo's." 

"Yours  or  whose?" 
,    "His  to  whom  I  entrusted  it."     , 

"All  this  is  a  very  likely  story,"  said  the  chief,  giving  a  side  look 
and  a  meaning  smile  to  his  companion.  "Young  woman,"  he  con- 
tinued, "this  medal  is  the  property  of  a  young  lady  of  this  city, 
and  was  stolen  only  night  before  last  from  her  sleeping  room.  You 
will  hnve  to  be  kept  a  prisoner  and  answer  before  the  police  court, 
which  will  commit  you  for  theft  unless  you  produce  better  evi- 
dence of  your  innocence." 

At  a  motion  from  the  chief  Laoni  was  conducted  out  by  the 
officer  who  had  brought  her  to  the  room.  The  lawyer-like  individual 
looked  over  his  glasses  at  the  girl's  retreating  figure,  and  when  she 


468  GUY  RAYMOND. 


:ed   in 


was  out  of  sight  he  turned   towards  the   chief  and  remark( 
measured  tones:  ,         , 

"A  remarkable  looking  girl.  A  half-breed,  evidently.  Some  of 
these  half-breeds  are  regular  gypsies,  and  for  them  to  steal  is  second 
nature." 

In  a  few  moments  the  same  officer  reappeared  with  Nathan  Roach. 

The  latter  strode  in  awkwardly,  in  advance,  and  after  a  step 
or  two,  hesitated  and  turned  inquiringly  towards  his  conductor.  The 
officer  motioned  him  to  proceed,  and  he  took  a  position  in  front  of 
the  chief  and  his  companion. 

While  the  chief  wrote  rapidly  for  a  minute,  the  other  eyed 
Nathan  through  his  glasses;  then,  as  if  not  satisfied  with  the  inspec- 
tion, ho  ducked  his  chin  and  contemplated  the  backwoodsman  over 
their  rims. 

Nathan  returned  the  inspection  with  a  stolid  indifference. 

The  chief  put  down  his  pen  and  turned  the  writing  over  to  the 
other,  with  the  remark  in  an  undertone: 

"That  is  about  the  substance  of  what  she  said." 

Then,  giving  the  newcomer  his  attention,  he  asked: 

"Your  name?" 

"'Pears  to  me  yer  all  orto  know  it  by  now,  fur  ef  I've  told  it 
oncet,  I've  told  it  a  dozen  times." 

"You  will  have  to  answer,  sir." 

"Well— see  here,  mister;  I'd  like  to  know  who  yer  is.  I'm  'rested 
fur  mithin/  and  pulled  'round  from  piller  to  post,  and  it's  my 
right  to  know  before  who  I'm  brought  and  questioned." 

"I  am  the  chief  of  police,  and  as  you  have  been  arrested  fol- 
lowing stolen  property  in  your  possession,  it  is  my  duty  to  question 
you  as  to  how  you  came  by  it,  so  that  if  you  are  not  the  thief,  you 
may  be  able  to  give  information  that  will  lead  us  to  find  the  really 
guilty  one." 

"That's  more  sensible  like.  I  ain't  guilty  of  nuthin,'  and  ef 
I  knowed  who  put  that  ring  in  my  pocket  I'd  not  only  let  yer  into 
the  secret,  but  I'd  thrash  the  stuffin'  outen  him  to  boot,  or  my  name 
ain't  Nathan  Roach." 

The  chief  wrote  down  his  name. 

"What  did  you  do  with  the  medal  you  had?" 

"Never  had  none." 

"Never  saw  this  before?" 

"Never  did — as  I  knows  on." 

"Do  you  know  an  Indian  girl  or  woman  named — named — let 
see  that  paper,  captain — named  Laoni  ?" 


GUY  EAYMOND.  469 

"I  struck  up  with  one  of  that  name  the  other  day." 

"How  often  have  you  met  her  ?" 

"Twicet." 

"Where?" 

"Canal  street." 

"What  part  of  the  street?" 

"Blamed  ef  I  know.  It  was  by  a  store  with  a  big  winder  that 
had  a  Injun  in  it,  and  that's  how  we  got  acquainted.  I  was  lookin' 
and  she  was  lookin'  and  I  said  somethin'  in  the  Lipan  talk  to 
myself  when  I  spied  the  Injun  in  the  winder,  and  the  gal,  she's 
a  Lipan,  and  she  took  me  up  right  straight  and,  sir,  we  was  a-talkin' 
Lipan  for  an  hour.  She  had  a  sweetheart  in  Texis,  and  I  promised 
to  git  news  of  him.  We  met  oncet  more  after  that,  and  was  to 
meet  agin  in  six  days." 

"Did  you  not  give  this  medal  to  the  girl  at  your  last  meeting  by 
the  show  window?" 

"Didnt't  I  tell  yer  I  never  seed  it  before?" 

" Answer  my  question." 

"Ef  I  never  seed  it  before  how'n  thunder  could  I  give  it  to  any- 
body? Peers  to  me  yer  simple  minded  to  ask  such  questions." 

The  chief  smiled. 

"This  girl  said  you  gave  her  the  medal." 

never  believe  she  said  it." 

[ave  you  any  friends  or  acquaintances  in  the  city  who  could 
vouch  for  you  ?" 

"Only  Tip  Hamilton,  and  he  has  only  been  here  five  days  and 
I've  been  here  seven." 

The  chief  whispered  to  the  captain  to  notice  how  well  the  prisoners 
had  made  up  their  story  as  to  their  arrival  in  the  city,  times  of  meet- 
ing, and  so  forth. 

"But  this  goes  against  them,"  said  the  captain. 

"So  it  does,  but  they  have  an  object." 

"They  are  part  of  a  gypsy  band,  no  doubt — great  thieves — great 
thieves !"  said  the  captain. 

"So  you  know  no  one  in  the  city  ?" 

"There's  the  feller  and  his  wife  I  kept  from  breakin'  their  necks 
by  stoppin'  their  bosses.  But  they  don't  know  nuthin'  'bout  me,  and 
ef  the  truth  was  known,  care  less,  even  ef  I  done  'em  a  favor." 

"Give  the  name,  anyway,"  said  the  chief.  "He  may  return  the 
J';i\or  by  going  on  your  bond." 

"Halfen — Dueio  Halfen  is  the  feller's  name,  and  George — the 
ono  that  keeps  the  coffee  house  and  saloon — is .  another  name  yer 


470  GUY  EAYMOND. 

mought  put  down,  although  he  ain't  much  of  my  stripe  no  more'n 
t'other." 

"Halfen's  endorsement  will  not  have  much  weight  in  the 
of  honesty,"  said  the  captain,  dryly. 

"But  his  money  will  in  the  scale  of  justice,"  said  the  chief. 

CHAPTEE  LXIV. 

"Stella,  I  have  to  go  to  that  hateful  police  court,  and  so  have  yo 
Be  ready,  child;  the  summons  said  ten  o'clock.  I  wish  it  had  been 
the  bracelet  or  pin  instead  of  the  ring  that  they  found.  The  very 
cheapest  thing  was  the  first  to  come  to  light — I  mean  your  medal. 
The  girl  must  have  been  a  fool  to  wear  it  openly.  This  dress  is 
good  enough  for  a  dirty  court  room.  Beatrice  sent  word  that  she 
would  not  be  here  this  morning.  That  means  she  did  not  care  to  go 
with  us.  Beatrice  will  never  suit  Guy.  She  is  too  changeable. 
There's  that  hateful  agent  of  mine  crossing  the  street;  coming  here, 
I'll  bet.  Watch  i:he  hall  door,  child,  and  if  the  servant  comes  for  me, 
say  I'm  out.  If  anything  will  make  me  marry  again,  it  would  be 
to  get  rid  of  agents." 

Mrs.  Eaymond  and  Stella  were  on  time  at  court,  and  were  com- 
pelled to  wait  a  few  minutes  before  the  entrance  of  Nathan  Eoach 
as  a  prisoner.  His  case  was  set  to  open  the  proceedings.  The  cap- 
tain, with  spectacles,  was  present  and  represented  the  State.  The 
two  policemen  who  made  the  arrest  swore  to  the  fact  and  stated  that 
the  ring  shown  in  court  was  found  in  the  coat  pocket  of  the  defendant. 
George  swore  that  he  saw  Nathan  hang  his  coat  on  a  hook  about  an 
hour  before  his  arrest  and  that  no  one  had  been  in  that  part  of  the 
saloon  between  the  time  of  hanging  it  there  and  its  being  taken 
down  by  the  defendant.  Mrs.  Eaymond  identified  the  ring  as  one  of 
several  pieces  of  jewelry  stolen  from  her  rooms  by  burglars  two  nights 
before. 

Halfen  had  been  summoned  as  a  witness,  but  not  having  ma 
his  appearance,  the  court  was  about  to  decide  that  it  could  not  wait 
for  him,  when  he  entered  the  hall.     He  was  placed  upon  the  stan 
and  duly  sworn. 

"Do  you  know  the  defendant?" 

"I  do." 

"Have  you  over  seen  this  ring  before?" 

"I  think  not." 

"Novcr  know  of  the  defendant  having  it  in  his  possession?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Did  he  ever  offer  you  any  jewelry  for  sale  ?" 


GUY  EAYMOND.  471 

"No  jewelry." 

"Any  other  articles?" 

"A  medal." 

"Describe  it." 

"A  silver  medal  attached  to  bead  work." 

"\Vould  you  recognize  the  medal  if  it  were  produced  here?" 

"I  would." 

"Is  this  it?"  asked  the  attorney. 

"That  is  the  medal." 

H'jimilton,  who  was  sitting  by  Nathan  as  his  counsellor,  had  to 
use  all  of  his  strength  in  keep  Nathan  from  springing  over  the  short 
space  between  him  arid  the  perjurer.  As  it  was,  he  gained  his  feet 
and  simultaneously  the  word  liar  hissed  through  his  teeth,  while 
his  outstretched  arm  and  extended  claw-like  fingers  indicated  what 
the  result  would  bo  if  he  could  reach  his  traducer. 

Hamilton  WHS  ihe  sole  witness  for  Nathan.  He  took  the  stand 
and  outlined  his  acquaintance  with  the  accused,  his  constant  com- 
panionship with  him  since  his  arrival  in  the  city;  and  even  if  he 
did  not  possess  the  honorable  character  with  which  his  evidence 
clothed  him:  even  if  he  were  the  criminal  which  circumstances  and 
the  direct  evidence  of  TTalfen  seemed  to  make  him,  it  was  nearly 
impossible  for  him  in  have  committed  the  crime  of  burglary  without 
the  knowledge  of  his  constant  companion. 

The  speech  of  ihe  prosecutor  was  short  and  pointed.  The  case 
was  so  plain  that  it  would  be  presumption  to  make  an  extended  ar- 
gument before  the  couri.  The  web  of  circumstances  was  woven  with- 
out a,  break  in  its  perfection,  and  was  made  clear  and  definite  by  the 
testimony  of  a  direct  witness  as  to  the  possession  of  other  property 
stolen  on  the  same  occasion  when  the  missing  jewelry  was  taken,  a 
portion  of  which  was  discovered  in  a  pocket  of  the  defendant. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  attorney's  remarks,  Hamilton  requested 
the  court's  permission  to  represent  the  defendant,  who  was  unable 
lo  'tnploy  counsel.  He  (the  speaker)  could  produce  the  evidences  of 
his  right  to  plead  a  case  in  his  own  State,  but  they  being  inaccessible, 
he  would  have  to  rely  upon  the  indulgence  of  the  court  of  a  sister  com- 
monwealth to  take  his  word  for  it.  After  a  few  pertinent  questions, 
the  court  acceded  to  his  desire,  and  the  Mississippian  began : 

"Your  Honor,  I  have  watched  the  progress  of  this  case  with  much 
interest,  because  from  its  very  inception — from  the  moment  when 
those  two  well  meaning  policemen  laid  their  official  hands  upon  this 
defendant  up  to  the  conclusion  of  the  testimony,  I  have  sniffed  the 
strong  odor  of  a  deep  laid  conspiracy  to  bring  to  ruin  the  character 
Of  their  victim,  and  by  encircling  him  with  the  meshes  of  the  law 


472  GUY  EAYMOND. 

to  take  away  his  liberty.  If  this  be  true,  there  is  a  deep  set  purpose, 
and  if  this  purpose  be  not  confined  to  narrow  limits,  there  may  be 
other  victims  to  sate  the  appetite  and  cram  the  voracious  maw  of 
this  plotting  monster.  It  is  true  that  the  evidence  is  in  and  the 
argument  has  opened,  but  with  the  words  of  the  prosecutor,  there 
flashed  upon  my  mind  an  incident  or  two  which  the  furtherance  of 
justice  and  a  desire  to  shielrl  tho  innocent  demand  to  be  looked  into. 
I  ask  the  consent  of  the  court  under  the  plea  of  newly  discovered 
evidence  to  allow  the  recall  of  one  or  more  witnesses  to  reply  to 
questions  purely  germane  to  their  direct  testimony.  I  believe  your 
Honor  will  view  this  request  in  its  equitable"  bearings,  and  that  the 
State  will  not  interpose  objections." 

The  court  having  assented,  Hamilton  called  for  the  first  witness. 

A  policeman  took  the  stand. 

"You  arrested  the  defendant?" 

"I  did/' 

"On  what  species  of  information?" 

"A  paper  saying  that  in  George's  saloon  was  a  coat  hanging  which 
belonged  to  one  of  four  men  playing  at  cards.  In  a  pocket  of 
the  coat  was  a  piece  of  the  jewelry  which  had  been  stolen  from  a 
house  on  Eoyal  street." 

"What  followed?" 

"I  got  a  chum  and  went  to  the  place,  saw  the  coat  and  waited 
for  a  man  to  claim  it.  The  one  who  claimed  it  was  the  defendant 
here.  We  arrested  him,  and  on  searching  the  pockets  of  the  gar- 
ment, found  (the  ring  now  in  court." 

"Have  you  this  paper?" 

"Here  it  is,"  handing  the  paper. 

"Whose  writing  is  it?" 

"That  I  don't  know." 

"Are  you  an  expert  in  handwriting  ?" 

"How?" 

"In  telling  the  same  hand  on  different  papers." 

"I'm  pretty  good  that  way." 

"Examine  this  and  say  what  resemblance  there  is  between  it  an 
the  note  you  received." 

"I  should  say  the  same  person  wrote  it." 

"Call  the  saloon-keeper — Mr.  George,"  said  Hamilton. 

George,  who  was  in  hearing,  came  forward. 

Hamilton  interrogated  him : 

"George,  who  wrote  that?'7 

"I  did,"  was  the  reply. 


GUY  RAYMOND.  473 

"What  is  that  paper?" 

"It  is  a  receipt  I  gave  you." 

"Now  tell  this  court  who  wrote  that." 

George  took  the  note  which  the  policeman  swore  he  had  received 
as  information  against  Nathan.  His  hands  trembled  as  he  regarded 
it  and  in  a  hesitating  manner,,  he  replied,,  as  Hamilton  confronted 
him  sternly: 

"I  couldn't  say,  sir." 

"Did  you  not  write  that  and  give  it  to  a  fellow  who  was  in  your 
saloon  for  a  few  minutes  on  the  night  of  the  arrest,  to  take  to  the 
station?" 

"If  I  did  I  don't  remember." 

"Did  you  not  have  a  talk  with  Half  en  about  that  note?" 

"I  don't  remember." 

"Have  you  not  talked  with  Halfen  about  crushing  this  defendant 
and  some  one  else  who  was  supposed  to  know  a  good  deal  about 
your's  and  his  operations  somewhere — on  a  certain  island,  for  in- 
stance?" 

The  witness  half  rose,  reddened  and  resumed  his  seat  in  an  agitated 
manner. 

"Answer  my  question." 

"I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about." 

At  this  point  of  the  proceedings  Halfen  rose  to  leave,  when  Ham- 
ilton asked  the  court  to  detain  him  as  he  wished  to  call  him  to  the 
sta:id. 

The  court  requested  Halfen  to  remain. 

"What  does  he  wish  with  me?"  asked  Halfen. 

"You  both  will  know  before  I  get  through  with  you." 

"Now,  Mr.  George,  I  wish  to  know  if  you  did  not  see  a  sneaking- 
looking  fellow  at  the  door  while  we  were  playing  cards?" 

"Think  I  did." 

"Didn't  he  beckon  to  you  ?" 

"Perhaps  he  did." 

"Did  you  not  go  to  him  ?" 

"I  walked  to  the  screen."  i 

"Did  not  this  fellow  walk  into  (the  saloon  after  you  went  to  the 
screen  ?" 

"He  might." 

"Don't  you  know  he  did  ?" 

"If  he  did  I  don't  remember." 

bu  can  stand  aside.     Call  Mr.  Half  on."' 
cio  came  forward, 
your  direct  examination  you  stated  that  Mr.  Roach,  the  de- 


474  GUY  RAYMOND. 

fendant  here,  offered  to  sell  you  this  medal  ?" 

"I  did." 

"What  time  was  that  ?" 

"Day  before  yesterday,  I  think." 

"What  place?" 

"On  Conti  street,  somewhere." 

"About  what  hour?" 

"Between  ten  and  eleven." 

"Was  any  other  person  present?" 

"No  one." 

"You  may  stand  aside.     Will  the  court  please  swear  me?*' 

The  oath  was  administered. 

"I  wish  to  make  a  statement  to  impeach  the  testimony  of  the 
witness  Halfen.  On  the  day  he  stated  that  the  defendant  offered 
him  the  medal  for  sale,  on  that  day  between  the  hours  of  ten  and 
eleven  and  many  blocks  away  from  the  street  he  names  as  the  place 
where  the  offer  was  made,  this  dfendant  and  myself  were  in  company 
in  my  quarters  where  I  was  engaged  the  whole  morning  mostly  in 
writing  letters  for  myself  and  one  for  the  defendant.  Furthermore, 
I  will  state  that  during  the  entire  day,  froin  the  hours  mentioned 
until  late  bedtime,  I  was  in  company  with  Nathan  Roach,  this  de- 
fendant here,  and  that  we  slept  in  the  same  room  that  night.  I 
will  also  state  that  on  the  night  of  the  robbery  we  occupied  the  same 
room,  and  on  going  to  bed,  there  was  but  one  vacant  chair.  On 
this  the  defendant  spread  his  clothing  first.  I  retired  a  little  lat( 
and  placed  a  portion  of  my  own  clothing  over  his.  The  next  moi 
ing  I  arose  first  and  will  swear  that  from  all  appearances  not  an  arti< 
on  the  chair  had  been  disturbed." 

After  Hamilton  concluded  his  testimony,  he  resumed  his 
ment. 

"I  do  not  think,  your  Honor,  that  the  finely  woven  web  of  the 
State  appears  so  intact  as  it  did  a  while  ago.  The  alleged  clearness 
which  the  direct  and  positive  testimony  imparted  to  its  structural 
beauty  has  assumed,  to  the  eye  of  reason,  a  decidedly  muddy  hue, 
covering  with  the  mephistic  odors  of  perjury  the  rotten  structure 
erected  by  a  mean  conspiracy.  Your  Honor  must  have  noted  how 
the  witness,  George,  squirmed  when  I  questioned  him  as  to  who  wrote 
the  receipt  and  who  wrote  the  note.  How  he  swore  in  his  direct 
testimony  that  no  one  had  been  near  the  hanging  coat,  or  even  into 
the  saloon,  and  when  cross-ex;) mined  he  could  remember  nothing. 
If  he  wrote  the  note  he  could  not  remember.  His  memory  was  de- 
cidedly bad  concerning  this  villainy,  but  when  I  stirred  the  depths 
of  his  self-accusing  conscience  by  allusion  to  another  villainy  coi 


GUY  RAYMOND.  475 

mitted  in  a  distant  place  and  wherein  another  witness  in  this  case 
was  particeps  criminis,  how  it  fell  upon  him  like  a  thunder  bolt  of 
Jove  and  raised  him  nearly  out  of  his  seat;  how  the  tell-tale  color 
fired  his  cheek  and  his  nerves  became  unstrung  in  conscious  guilt. 
The  conspiracy  is  plain — the  ring  placed  in  the  coat  by  the  stranger 
who  beckoned  to  George;  the  note  sent  through  him  by  George  to 
apprise  the  police.  The  identity  of  the  two  handwritings,  which  must 
be  apparent  to  this  court  and  to  anyone  who  will  give  the  papers 
but  a  hasty  inspection,  is  enough  to*  crush  their  scheme.  It  takes 
an  expert,  your  Honor,  to  avoid  the  characteristics  of  handwriting. 
The  uneducated  and  the  clumsy  pensman,  as  is  this  man,  cannot 
do  away,  if  they  try,  with  the  tell-tale  peculiarities  of  writing. 
Then,  to  crown  the  pyramid  of  infamy  erected  by  these  unhandy 
plotters,  comes  the  perjury  of  this  wretch  in  human  shape;  this  blot 
upon  created  things ;  this  so-called  man  to  whose  name,  in  the  eternal 
fitness  of  things,  was  denied  the  ordinary  euphonies  which  sometimes 
detract  from  the  ungainliness  of  personality.  It  is  in  evidence  that 
his  story  here  was  pure  fiction.  I  laid  the  predicate  to  catch  him 
and  he  sits  there  impeached  before  a  court  of  his  country  and  we 
defy  him  to  clear  his  skirts.  But  he  has  learned  so  many  lessons  in 
infamy  that  the  role  he  played  here  has  become  the  second  nature 
to  which  his  whole  character  is  bent,  and  he  has  reached  that  depth 
in  the  abyss  of  moral  turpitude  that  precludes  every  further  move- 
ment that  does  not  tend  to  the  lowest  deep.  Your  Honor,  I  have 
done  with  this  case.  I  thank  you  for  the  privilege  granted  me  to 
defend  this  man,  and  I  believe  that  without  one  word  from  my  lips 
after  the  cross  examination  of  the  witnesses  and  my  own  testimony, 
your  decision  would  have  been  the  same  as  it  will  be  now." 

The  court  rendered  its  decision  at  once.  The  defendant  was 
admitted  to  bail  in  a  nominal  sum  and  in  the  meantime  remanded 
to  the  custody  of  the  sheriff  with  an  injunction  for  good  treatment 
until  the  same  should  be  furnished. 

Hamilton  explained  to  Nathan  the  nature  of  the  court's  action 
and  assured  him  that  it  was  equivalent  to  an  acquittal. 

The  backwoodsman  grasped  his  friend's  hand  and  thanked  him  for 
his  assistance. 

"Yer  is  a  trump,  Hamilton,  and  I  shall  never  forgit  yer  talk; 
but  Lordy,  man,  yer  flew  off  inter  that  lingo  that  a  feller  couldn't 
make  out  the  head  or  tail  of  it,  but  I  low'd  yer  was  givin'  of  'em  fits/' 

Nathan's  first  impulse  when  he  thought  himself  free,  was  to  go 
for  the  false  swearing  Ducio,  the  ingrate,  who  could  so  soon  forget 
the  service  he  had  done  him  in  the  instance  of  the  runaway  team. 


476  GUY  RAYMOND. 


a  and 


But  Hamilton  told  him  to  keep  cool  and  to  leave  Ducio  to  him  an 
he   would   afford   him   ample   opportunity   for   revenge.     Meantime, 
he  would  get  him  a  surety  on  his  bond. 

The  case  against  Laoni  was  next  called,  and  Nathan,  who  was 
still  i  in  court,  was  dumfounded  to  find  the  defendant  who  appeared 
was  his  Indian  friend  His  demonstration  to  give  her  a  warm 
salutation  was  checked  by  the  officer  who  had  her  in  charge.  So 
soon  as  she  was  arraigned  the  State's  attorney  asked  for  a  postpone- 
ment of  the  case  until  the  afternoon.  Mrs.  Raymond  for  the  first 
time  learned  the  nationality  of  the  accused  and  was  struck  with  the 
idea  that  she  must  be  her  Indian,  and  if  that  were  the  case  she  must 
be  innocent.  She  requested  the  court  to  allow  her  to  interview  the 
prisoner,  to  which  a  gracious  consent  was  given.  The  lady  intro- 
duced herself  as  being  the  person  who  had  lost  the  jewelry,  and  told 
Laoni  that  she  would  like  to  hear  what  statement  she  had  to  make. 
A  long  interview  followed,  in  which  Mrs.  Raymond  became  acquainted 
with  much  of  Laoni's  story  and  recognized  her  as  the  protege  of  her 
late  brother.  The  information  that  the  medal  was  claimed  as  the 
property  of  the  lady's  niece  had  a  depressing  influence  on  the  satis- 
faction which  Mrs.  Raymond's  announced  relationship  to  her  late 
protector  should  have  produced  in  Laoni's  mind.  She  wondered  how 
it  could  be,  never  suspecting  that  El  Bravo  would  have  willingly  parted 
with  her  gift.  It  caused  her  to  look  with  suspicion  on  this  newly 
proffered  friendship  which  might  eventuate  in  duplicity  like  the  hol- 
low protestations  of  Ducio.  It  was  something  to  have  her  story 
believed  in  regard  to  her  innocence  of  the  crime,  and  comforting  to 
be  assured  that  influence  would  be  brought  to  bear  to  arrest  further 
prosecution.  Mrs.  Raymond  thought  the  girl  was  mistaken  about 
the  medal,  but  regarded  the  matter  as  too  trivial  for  much  considera- 
tion. Stella  could  well  afford  to  relinquish  the  bauble  which  had 
no  importance  as  a  relic  and  little  intrinsic  value.  She  remained 
until  the  court  reconvened,  when  she  prevailed  upon  the  attorney  to 
nol  pros  the  case.  The  triumphant  lady  took  her  new  charge  in  the 
carriage  with  herself  and  Stella  with  the  view  of  domesticating  her 
at  once  at  her  hotel,  but  at  the  earnest  request  of  Laoni,  she  left 
her  at  the  gate  of  the  Convent  of  the  Sacred  Heart. 

The  sounds  of  the  carriage  wheels  had  not  died  away  when  the 
door  swung  open  to  admit  the  girl  to  the  holy  precincts  of  the  insti- 
tution. Within  such  she  had  seen  and  learned  all  that  redeemed 
the  white  man's  civilization  from  the  basest  selfishness  and  greed, 
and  the  familiar  forms,  the  charming  quiet,  the  orderly  appearance, 
the  frank  welcome  vitalized  her  drooping  spirits  and  settled  upo 
her  a  feeling  of  content,  of  asylum  from  the  pitfalls  and  menaces 


:, 


GUY  RAYMOND.  477 

the  Christian  world.  Her  credentials  were  ample  to  admit  her  to  the 
hearts  and  care  of  the  ladies  of  the  order,  whose  house  could  be  hers 
until  she  would  be  able  to  better  define  her  future. 

The  next  morning  Laoni  found  herself  more  content.  It  was 
the  day  on  which  she  was  to  again  meet  Nathan.  She  had  little 
idea  of  seeing  with  him  the  form  which  most  filled  her  mind,  but  the 
light  of  hope  kindled  by  the  words  of  her  rude  friend  had  never  paled, 
and  she  felt  assured  that  she  would  sometime  soon  see  El  Bravo. 

On  leaving  the  Convent  gate  to  keep  her  appointment,  she  en- 
countered Beatrice,  who  was  about  to  enter.  An  immediate  mutual 
recognition  followed. 

"Are  you  staying  here?"  asked  Beatrice. 

"For  a  time/'  replied  Laoni,  "and  until  I  get  a  place." 

"You  broke  your  engagement  with  me  and  hired  to  another.  Why 
have  you  quit  your  place  so  soon  ?" 

"I  was  fooled.  They  made  me  believe  that  I  was  going  to  you 
when  I  got  in  the  carriage/' 

Beatrice's  interest  became  so  aroused  that  she  walked  along  by 
the  side  of  Laoni  white  the  latter  gave  in  brief  the  details  of  her 
experience. 

"Now  that  you  are  free  from  it  all,  will  you  come  and  stay  with 
me  as  you  intended  ?" 

"You  may  come  tomorrow  morning  at  the  Convent  and  I  will 
answer." 

"And  now  you  are  going  to " 

"I  must  meet  a  friend.  On  what  he  tells  me  or  on  what  I  see 
and  hear  at  the  meeting  will  depend  my  coming  to  you." 

"A  lover,  perhaps,"  thought  Beatrice. 

"Do  not  let  anyone  persuade  you  into  more  scrapes,  Laoni.  Can 
you  depend  on  this  friend?" 

"On  him!  Yes,  and  better  on  one  who  may  be  with  him.  To 
meet  or  hear  of  this  one  is  why  I  have  to  meet  a  friend." 

"Be  careful  that  both  do  not  prove  false.  It  would  be  a  blow 
to  find,  between  the  two,  a  friend  and  lover,  both  untrue.  Is  one 
an  Indian?" 

"No.  Both  are  white,  but  so  different;  both  are  honorable. 
But  one  is  rough  as  the  stone  just  from  the  mountain  side;  the  other 
as  smooth  and  shapely  as  its  mate  after  it  has  left  the  hands  of  the 
skillful  workman." 

Beatrice  wondered  much  at  Laoni's  words,  and  thought  that 
the  Ursulines  had  not  curtailed  her  opportunities  for  acquaintance 
with  men,  nor  had  a  Convent  life  dulled  her  manifestly  acute  per- 
ceptions of  the  rough  and  the  polish  in  masculine  character. 


L11*J 

mid 


478  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"Yet  you  regard  both  alike?" 

"Both  alike?     Oh,  no!     The  one  I  long  to  meet  is  before  the 
world,  before  Walumpta,  my  father.     Without  him  the  light  woul 
dim  to  darkness;  there  would  be  no  aim  to  live  Unless  my  life  me; 
a  journey  to  the  death  which  will  unite  us." 

"He  loves  you?" 

"He  did  love  me;  not  wildly  as  I  loved  him,  but  yet  with  a  love 
on  which  angels  could  smile.  But  it  matters  little  how  well  I  am 
loved,  Laoni's  heart  can  only  be  El  Bravo's." 

"El  Bravo's  \»  thought  Beatrice.  "Did  not  I  hear  that  before  some- 
where ?" 

"Well,  Laoni,"  she  said,  "I  will  leave  you  here.  I  hope  you  will 
meet  your — your  friend ;  and  whether  you  do  or  not,  I  trust  you  will 
be  ready  to  go  home  with  me  in  the  morning." 

Laoni's  grave  face  did  not  respond  to  the  other's  smile,  but,  utter- 
ing a  mechanical  good-bye,  she  turned  away  to  Canal  street. 

She  found  Nathan  awaiting  her,  apparently  in  patience,  as  he 
was  regarding  things  around  him  with  an  air  of  curiosity,  which  was 
none  the  less  emphasized  by  a  partly  open  mouth  and  hands  crossed 
behind  him  under  the  tail  of  his  coat. 

She  placed  her  hand  lightly  on  his  arm  before  he  saw  her. 

"Thought  yer'd  give  it  up,"  he  said. 

"I  am  a  little  late.  I  was  talking  to  a  lady  part  of  the  way,  and 
we  walked  slow." 

"Well,  he  ain't  come,"  was  his  abrupt  announcement. 

"No?     You  could  not  help  that." 

"Wish'd  I  could ;  he'd  a  come." 

"No  news?" 

'Not  a  word.     Say,  did  that  feller  Half  en  do  yer  any  dirt  ?" 

"Any  dirt?" 

"Treat  yer  bad  and— 

"He  would  have  done  so,  but  I  escaped." 

"The  liar !     Said  I'd  steal !     He'll  feel  me  yit.     Yer  know  some 
thin'  ?     We're  goin'  to  raise  him  out'en  his  boots." 

"Out  of  his  boots?" 

"Goin'  to  clean  him  up — walk  through  him — squelch  him." 

Laoni  did  not  exactly  understand  the  phraseology  employed 
her  friend  and  remained  silent  and  thoughtful. 

Nathan  continued: 

"Hamilton  says  he's  got  to  regorge  or   degorge  or  disgorge 
sumthin'  like  that.     He  means  that  he's  got  to  give  up  some  stole 
money  and  property  and  so  on.     He's  been  stealin'  like  thunder 


GUY  EAYMOND.  479 

and  see  here,  miss!  what  he's  been  stealin'  b'longs  by  rights  to  this 
young  feller  yer  want  to  see  so  bad.  Ef  he  thinks  a  lot  of  yer,  or 
half  as  much  as  yer  do  of  him,  ye're  certain  of  a  pile  when  we  git 
through  with  Halfen." 

"I  do  not  care  for  his  money.  Money  seems  to  be  the  real  god 
which  is  worshipped  by  the  white  people.  The  God  of  their  religion 
condemns  the  worship,  yet  they  go  on  setting  up  gold  and  silver 
above  Him,  while  they  claim  to  believe  it  to  be  wrong.  In  this 
the  white  people  are  two-faced." 

"Ye're  like  me,  miss;  yer  will  spit  out  the  truth.  I  tell  'em 
this  here  city  life  is  a  pore  excuse.  Give  me  a  rifle,  a  scalpin'  knife 
and  freedom  everytime." 

Laoni's  disappointment,  though  great,  was  borne  with  a  natural 
stoicism  that  concealed  it  effectually.  She  gave  Nathan  her  address, 
stating  that  if  she  was  not  at  the  Convent,  the  nuns  would  know 
wln-re  she  could  be  found.  He  promised  to  apprise  her  of  the  ar- 
rival of  Guy  or  of  any  news  affecting  him,  which  he  might  hear. 
After  the  good-byes  the  backwoodsman  turned  again  and  again  to 
take  a  look  at  the  retreating  form  of  the  girl,  until  she  turned  a  corner. 

"Ef  ever  I'd  thought  I'd  keer  that  much  fur  a  squaw!  Thar'- 
s u ni thin'  'bout  her  that  makes  a  feller  feel  all-overish.  Blamed 
ef  I  don't  wish  she  didn't  like  that  feller  in  Texis  so  powerful  much. 
Any  how,  ef  he  ain't  stuck  on  that  gal  we  rescued  that  night,  I'm  the 
worst  fooled  sucker  in  Orleans." 

Nathan  heaved  a  little  sigh,  but  soon  forgot  his  sentimental  strain 
after  he  caught  sight  of  Hamilton,  who  was  approaching  from  the 
levee. 

"I  can  give  you  the  news  you  wanted  this  morning,  Nathan,"  he 
said. 

"What  news?" 

"Guy  Eaymond  AVI  11  be  Here  tomorrow  or  the  next  day." 

"The  dickens  yer  say !" 

"He,  Manuel  Ruiz,  Perry  and  that  old  jailer's  daughter.  I  got 
.a  letter' from  Perry.  They  would  have  left  by  the  schooner  which 
brought  the  letter,'  but  it  had  no  accommodations  for  passengers, 
and  on  account  of  the  lady,  they  waited  two  days  for  another  vessel." 

"We'll  make  Halfen  howl  then,  fur  all  the  triggers  is  fixed." 

"Let's  t;ik<>  something  on  the  strength  of  it,  Nathan." 

"xre're  never  hard  up' fur  'senses  to  take  a  drink;  it's  yer  failin'." 
ut  consider  the  occasion.     Where'll  we  go— to  George's?" 
'o  George's." 


480  GUY  RAYMOND. 

CHAPTER  LXV. 

"She  is  a  singular  girl,"  thought  Beatrice,  when  she  parted 
Laoni.  The  latter's  frankness  impressed  her  favorably.  Her  strength, 
of  mind  was  apparent  from  her  perfect  self  reliance.  The  qualities 
were  the  concomitants  of  character  in  a  natural  person,  one  untainted 
by  the  artificialism  demanded  by  the  customs  of  the  society  of  civili- 
zation. The  seeds  of  moral  training,  sown  by  the  Convent  teachers 
had  fallen  upon  good  soil.  The  precepts  of  the  Christian  nuns 
had  been  turned  to  practical  use  by  this  child  of  nature,  and  the 
result  was  a  character  for  imitation,  an  embodiment  whose  exterior 
was  a  reflection  of  an  interior  of  sincerity  and  truth.  Laoni  was  a 
natural  person.  She  was  not  more  virtuous  than  when  she  clung  to 
youthful  Guy  in  her  native  village;  her  character  was  merely  remod- 
eled in  the  mould  of  a  civilization  which  had  failed  to  leave  the 
impress  of  its  blemishes.  Hence  she  could  not  fail  to  excite  the 
admiration  of  those  who  would  behold,  in  practical  life,  the  reflection 
of  theoretical  good.  The  gawky  Nathan,  the  villainous  Ducio,  the 
fashionable  Mrs.  Raymond,  the  refined  and  beautiful  Beatrice — all 
beheld  the  traits  which  distinguished  the  Indian  girl;  traits,  however, 
which  affected  them  dissimilarly.  With  Beatrice,  the  interest  was 
heightened  by  something  more  than  mere  admiration — by  a  feeling 
she  could  not  shake  off,  and  which  was  akin  to  fascination.  The 
ensuing  morning  she  was  impatient  until  she  found  herself  out  of  the 
house  and  on  her  way  to  the  Convent.  Laoni  was  expecting  her. 

"I  will  not  be  long,"  she  said,  as  she  turned  to  go  for  her  satchel 
and  take  leave  of  the  sisters. 

"He  did  not  come,  then  ?"  said  Beatrice,  half  inquiringly. 

"I  will  tell  you  when  we  are  going,"  replied  Laoni,  as  she  left  the 
reception  room. 

She  had  hardly  disappeared  before  the  front  door  opened  am 
Stella  entered  from  the  street. 

"What!     Stella?"  exclaimed  Beatrice. 

"It  is  no  one  else.     Good  morning,  Beatrice;  you've  been  hei 
since  mass  ?" 

"I've  just  come,  and  have  not  been  to  mass.     Does  this  mean  tli; 
your  holiday  is  over  ?" 

"Yes.     Studies  begin  today  and  I  would  not  miss   them  for 
pretty.    But  what  brings  you  to  the  Convent?" 

"I'll  tell  you  another  "time." 

"I  can  guess." 

"Guess." 


GUT  RAYMOND.  481 

"That  girl/' 

"That  is  very  indefinite/'  said  Beatrice,  smiling. 

"You  and  aunt  will  have  it." 

"I  can  stand  it/' 

"Have  you  seen  her  ?" 

"I  have." 

"And  secured  her?" 

"I  have." 

"I  find  her  a  strange  person,  don't  you,  Beatrice?" 

"Strange?  Yes.  To  say  the  truth,  she  is  an  oddity.  So  plain 
and  natural;  so  much  at  ease,  with  an  expression  upon  her  shapely 
features  that  invests  her  with  a  real  beauty  in  contract  with  her 
brown  complexion  and  her  Indian  birth.  There  is  a  something  which 
seems  to  impress  me  while  in  her  presence  that  T  have  had  some 
intercourse  with  her  in  the  past,  yet  I  know  that  it  must  be  only  an 
impression." 

"It  is  strange  about  my  medal.     She  claims  it." 

"It  might  have  once  been  hers." 

"In  the  Indian  country  ?" 

"Possibly.  I'd  give  it  up  to  her,  poor  thing.  You  set  little 
value  upon  it,  seeing  you  are  no  Catholic." 

"But  Mr.  Trigg- 


"Oh  !     He  is  dead  and  °'one  and- 


Beatrice  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Laoni,  ready  to  go 
with  her.  Laoni  regarded  Stella  for  an  instant. 

"You  are  the  young  girl  who  was  in  the  carriage?" 

"Yes;  with  my  aunt.     Good  morning." 

"The  medal  was  stolen  from  you  ?" 

"It  was." 

"And  you — you  got  it — from — 

"From  a  friend  in  Texas." 

"I  am  ready  to  go,"  said  Laoni,  turn  ing  to  Beatrice. 

"Good-bye,  Stella,"  said  the  latter.  "Somebody  will  be  here  in  a 
day  or  two,  when  I  am  fearful  your  studies  will  be  interrupted." 

"For  a  day,  perhaps,  for  of  course  you  will  monopolize  him.  If 
you  see  him  first,  bring  him  right  here." 

The  two  girls,  the  Mexican  and  the  Indian,  walked  for  a  time 
in  silence,  each  occupied  by  their  thoughts ;  bow  nearly  similar,  in 
regard  to  their  object,  will  be  left  to  the  reader  to  infer.  There  were 
only  a  few  persons  in  the  street.  A  block  or  two  alidad  a  crowd  of 
boys  and  men  were  around  an  organ-grinder  who  was  amusing  them  by 
the  antics  of  a  monkey. 

Beatrice  broke  the  silence : 


482  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"How  about  the  friend  you  went  to  see  on  yesterday  ?" 

"I  found  him  waiting." 

"And  alone?" 

"Alone." 

"Did  his  words  give  you  any  comfort?" 

"Yes.     In  his  rough  way,  he  fed  the  hope  that  led  me  to 
meeting.     I  will  not  trouble  him  more.     If  he  hears  of  anything 
will  know  how  to  find  me." 

"If  he  hears  of  this  dearer  friend  ?" 

"Of  El  Bravo— yes." 

"Had  he  no  other  name  ?" 

"To  me  he  will  always  be  El  Bravo.  'Twas  so  I  used  to  call  him 
in  those  sweet,  peaceful  days  when  the  beauty  of  his  smile  made  the 
hills  seem  greener,  the  mountains  grander  as  we  walked  in  the  mellow 
light  of  sunset,  where  the  waters  of  our  river  poured  over  the  rocky 
fall  with  a  roar  that  could  be  heard  beyond  the  village.  His  other 
name " 

"A  scream  from  Beatrice  interrupted  her.  They  had  reached 
the  corner  where  the  organ-grinder  had  installed  himself  in  the  street, 
and  as  they  were  about  to  pass,  the  monkey,  at  a  sign  from  his  master, 
dashed  up  to  Beatrice,  hat  in  hand,  to  beg  for  money.  His  appear- 
ance was  so  sudden  and  contact  so  close  that  she  screamed  from  absolute 
fright,  Laoni,  seeing  in  the  cause  of  her  alarm  a  hideous  but  un- 
known form,  at  once  interposed  and  dealt  the  animal  a  severe  sla 
The  monkey  recovered  himself  and  springing  at  his  assailant,  b 
her  on  the  finger.  The  organ-grinder  dragged  his  pet  away  by  t 
rope  just  in  time  to  save  it  from  a  crushing  blow  aimed  at  it  by 
queerly  dressed  individual,  who  had  a  little  before  been  endeavori 
to  drive  a  trade  with  the  monkey's  master.  With  the  failure  of  th 
blow  to  settle  the  monkey,  the  disappointment  of  the  individual 
found  vent  in  his  peculiar  language. 

"I'll  be  dad  seized  ef  I  didn't  like  to  wind  up  his  persimmo 
Madam  is  yer  hurt  much  ?  Well,  if  it  ain't  you  !"  he  exclaimed, 
he  met  Laoni 's  look. 

"My  finger  is  bleeding  from  the  bite  of  that  ugly  thing,"  she  said. 

"The  pestifferous  wretch!  The  master  ain't  a  bit  better'n  the 
monkey,  and  I've  a  notion  to  jess  clean  him  up  fur  paradin'  a  dan- 
gerous brute." 

"He  is  not  to  blame,"  said  Beatrice.  "I  suppose  I  was  fooli 
for  screaming.  We  are  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,  for  coining  to  o 
rescue." 

"Nary  a  thank,  mum.     I  was  a  little  hot  with  that  ar  I-tali 


ual 

; 


GUY  RAYMOND.  483 

afore  yer  cum  up,  seein'  he  wouldn't  offer  me  but  a  picayune  for 
ih  is  monkey  jacket  that  I  fetched  all  the  way  from  Tex  is  to  sell  to 
his  perfession.  It  is  oncommon  suitabul  for  a  monkey,  and  the  little 
Mexican  offiser  who  I  took  it  off  of  looked  like  he  mought  be  first 
cousin  to  one/' 

As  Nathan  said  this,,  he  drew  from  beneatli  his  coat  the  jacket 
in  question,  still  glittering  with  its  wealth  of  lace  and  buttons. 

"You  would  find  a  better  market  for  your  jacket  at  the  pawn 
shops/'  suggested  Beatrice,  smiling. 

"But  my  heart  was  set  on  seein'  the  monkey  wear  it,"  said  Nathan, 
whose  attention  was  suddenly  attracted  by  the  departure  of  the 
Italian  and  his  monkey. 

When  the  backswoodsman  looked  around  again  for  Laoni  and  her 
companion,  they  had  disappeared. 

"Blamed  ef  I  didn't  furgit  to  tell  her  'bout  the  news  Hamilton 
got  in  that  letter/'  he  muttered,  as  he  tucked  the  jacket  under  his  coat 
and  struck  out  down  the  street. 

Laoni  was  assigned  to  her  apartment  at  the  Bivas  home,  which  was 
adjoining  the  one  occupied  by  Beatrice.  The  latter  informed  her 
new  maid  and  companion  that  her  duties  would  be  light  and  that  she 
need  not  concern  herself  about  them  for  the  day.  Her  necessary 
wants  and  requirements  would  be  inquired  into  by  her  friend,  and 
all  that  would  be  needed  would  be  supplied.  The  room  was  neat  and 
tidy,  well,  though,  simply,  furnished  and  calculated,  with  the  as- 
surance of  her  new  friend's  protection,  to  make  her  feel  as  contented 
as  circumstances  would  permit.  As  she  glanced  out  of  the  window 
from  this  cozy  asylum  to  take  a  survey  of  the  vicinage  she  thought  that 
here  she  would  remain  until  the  coming  of  El  Bravo. 

When  Beatrice  was  alone  in  her  room  that  afternoon  she  unlocked 
her  little  w  riling  case  and  drew  oul  a  letter  which  had  been  opened. 
She  took  it  from  the  envelope  and  reread  it. 

It  was  from  Guy  Eaymond. 

She  looked  out  of  the  casement  in  a  dreamy,  abstracted  manner, 
find  gave  full  piny  in  her  UK  nights. 

"He  will  be  here  tomorrow,  perhaps.  Wonder  what  he  will  think 
of  my  Indian  maid?" 

Twenty-Tour  hours'  slay  within  the  walls  of  the  Rivas  mansion 
had  made  Laoni  feel  that  she  was  in  the  midst  of  a  family  whose 
characteristics  tilled  somewha!  the  measure  of  tlje  ideal  she  had 
formed  of  the  people  to  whom  (luy  Raymond  belonged.  She  began 
to  realize  that  there  could  exist  an  approaeh  to  (he  standard  of  the 
theoretical  morality  of  civilization  in  prnctieal  life.  She  was  ready 


484  GUY  RAYMOND. 


to  be  convinced  of  this  at  all  events  with  further  experience.  These 
reflections  possessed  her  mind  the  next  day  after  her  arrival  in  her  new 
home  when  left  alone  by  the  absence  of  Beatrice  on  a  shopping  tour 
for  her  benefit,  to  procure  those  necessities  deemed  essential  to  a 
wardrobe  becoming  her  newly  assumed  position.  The  day  was  cloudy 
as  she  entered  her  own  apartment  from  that  of  Beatrice,  and  to  admit 
more  light  she  drew  aside  the  curtains  and  threw  open  the  front 
blinds.  Naturally  she  glanced  out  upon  the  street  as  she  lowered  the 
sash  again,  and  became  almost  transfixed  at  something  that  caught 
her  vision.  A  figure  so  familiar,  a  portion  of  a  face  from  under  the 
hat  brim  and  the  owner  of  both  passed  under  the  veranda  as  he 
crossed  directly  towards  the  house.  The  powers  incident  to  her  ex- 
traction, for  the  moment,  deserted  her  and  she  trembled  with  emo- 
tions of  ecstacy,  of  doubt,  as  to  the  realism  of  her  vision.  The  door 
to  the  hall  was  open.  She  stood  rooted  to  the  spot  until  the  tink- 
ling of  the  doorbell  noted  the  presence  of  a  caller.  She  stole  quietly 
to  the  railing  guarding  the  space  down  which  extended  the  flight  of 
steps  and  listened.  The  servant  had  already  answered  the  bell  and 
the  words  greeted  her  ear. 

"This  is  the  right  place.  I  will  go  up  and  tell  her  that  you 
wish  to  see  her.  Your  name " 

"Just  say  it  is  one  whom  she  is  expecting.     She  will  know/7 

The  voice  was  Guy  Raymond's.  Laoni  recognized  it.  She  heard 
him  say  that  she  was  expecting  him.  Nathan  had  furnished  him 
with  her  address,  procured  at  the  convent.  It  was  all  so  plain  to 
her.  He  had  just  arrived  and  had  hastened  to  discover  her  where- 
abouts. Was  this  not  evidence  that  he  loved  her  the  same  as  when 
he  sat  beside  her  on  the  rock  above  the  fall?  All  these  thoughts 
required  but  an  instant  to  flash  through  her  mind,  and  without 
waiting  for  the  servant  to  notify  her,  she  hastily  descended  to  the 
drawing  room. 

Guy,  who  had  arrived  that  morning,  needed  no  pilot  to  guide  hi 
to  the  number  on  Esplanade  street,  where  dwelt  Beatrice,  she  having 
fully  posted  him  of  the  locality.  So,  after  brushing  up  for  the 
occasion,  he  very  soon  found  himself  in  the  Rivas'  drawing  room. 
Not  anticipating  a  very  prompt  descent  of  his  ladylove  from  the 
regions  above,  he  did  not  seat  himself,  but  stood  with  his  back  to 
the  door  by  which  he  entered,  looking  at  a  fine  oil  painting  over 
the  mantel.  The  room  was  so  dark  that  he  was  on  the  eve  of  decid- 
ing that  it  would  require  more  light  to  determine  its  character  and 
degree  of  excellence,  when  he  heard  the  rustle  of  skirts,  and  turning 
caught  in  his  arms  the  form  of  a  woman. 


TUT  RAYMOND. 

"Darling!"  he  said.     "Darling — did  you  know  who  it  was?" 

"You  wrote  you  would  come." 

"True — but  some  one  else  might  have  called  this  morning,  and 
this  room  is  so  dark." 

"Who  would  call  for  me  but  you?  Besides  I  heard  your  voice 
in  the  hall,  and  I  would  know  that  voice  anywhere." 

"I  would  never  have  recognized  yours,  my  darling.  It  has  so 
changed." 

"Because  you  never  heard  me  speak  your  language  before." 

"You  forget.     We  often  spoke  it  in  Texas." 

"Why  trifle  so?  Or  have  you  forgotten,  in  this  short  time,  that 
my  tongue  never  uttered  the  words  of  your  people  and  that  all  I 
know  of  your  past  you  told  me  in  a  language  which  you  learned 
from  these  lips." 

"What  a  strange  delusion!  Look  up,  Beatrice,  and  tell  me  you 
it  is  who  are  trifling." 

"Beatrice!  Beatrice — did  you  say?"  said  Laoni,  drawing  away 
from  him.  "Oh— El  Bravo!" 

"El  Bravo!  El  Bravo?  Is  this  a  real,  waking  interview?"  said 
Guy,  rubbing  his  eyes.  "That  name!  Her  voice!  English  as  pure 
as  any!  And  in  this  place!  This  house!  Expected  me  by  letter!" 

"Who  are  you?"  he  asked  earnestly. 

"Your  darling  but  a  moment  ago,"  said  Laoni.  "Who  is  then 
your  darling,  since  I  am  not?  Who  did  you  expect  to  meet  here 
having  a  better  claim  to  be  your  darling?"  said  Laoni  passionately. 
Using  the  Lipan  dialect,  she  continued:  "I  see  it  all  now.  Laoni 
is  forgotten.  El  Bravo  of  the  San  Saba  is  lost  in  the  person  of 
Guy  Raymond  surrounded  by  the  pretenses  of  civilization." 

"Laoni,  is  it  indeed  you?"  said  Guy,  drawing  back  the  heavy 
curtains.  "Laoni  of  the  San  Saba  is  as  dear  to  me  as  the  sister 
of  my  own  blood,  but  your  presence  here,  speaking  my  own  language 
with  an  ease  and  culture  so  remarkable,  has  made  me  doubt  my  own 
senses.  How  came  you  here  thus  changed?" 

"Are  you  not  changed?  Changes  do  not  always  appear  on  one 
side.  Laoni  can  change  as  well,  but  she  has  never  forgotten  El 
Bravo.  The  slightest  thing  he  gave  her  she  has  saved — some  trifles 
he  merely  touched  were  kept  as  treasures.  Prove  to  me  that  you 
have  kept  me  in  your  memory  if  not  in  your  heart  by  some  slight 
token,  if  it  be  only  to  show  me  the  medal  which  I  gave  you,  and  I 
will  be  content." 


486 


GUY  EAYMOND. 


"The  medal !     It  was   lost  or  stolen,   at  a  camp  before  I   ev( 
reached  Bexar." 

"Who  did  you  expect  to  meet  here  in  this  house  ?" 

"Miss   Navarro — a  lady  friend,   of   San  Antonio,"   replied 
rather  hesitatingly. 

**A  friend?     A  darling  friend,"  said  Laoni. 

"You  are  my   darling  friend,"   said   Guy,   approaching  her  ai 
putting  his  arm  around  her. 

"Laoni,  is  Miss  Navarro  in  the  house?" 
"She  is  not,  but  she  will  be  here  shortly.     I  had  better  go  befoi 
she  comes,  as  my  presence  may  confuse  you  both." 

"No,  darling,  do  not  go,  but  tell  me  in  a  few  words  how  came 
you  here  and  who  lias  taught  you  our  language." 

"You  will  know  soon  enough.  Take  away  your  arm  and  I  will 
go  to  find  her  whom  you  came  to  see." 

Guy  stooped  over  and  kissed  her  cheek,  and  when  he  raised  his 
head,  Beatrice  in  street  dress  stood  in  the  door,  looking  at  them. 

"This  is  Mr.  Raymond,"  she  said,  looking  sharply  at  Guy.  "I 
hardly  recognized  you  under  the  circumstances." 

"How  do  you  do,  Beatrice?  In  Laoni  here  I  found  an  old  friend, 
whom  I  did  not  expect  to  see.  It  \vas  n  mutual  surprise." 

"I  am  sorry  I  interrupted  your  warm  greetings,  but  this 
is  my  parlor  and  the  servant  stated  that  a  gentleman  was  here  to 
see  me.  This  girl  is  my  maid.  Does  Mr.  Raymond  still  desire  to 
see  me?" 

"That   was   the   object   of   my   coming,   and   there   has   occum 
nothing  to  change  my  desire  to  see  you." 

"Indeed !" 

Laoni  felt  the  embarrassment  of  her  position,  and  without  ai 
attempt  at  explanation,  passed  out  and  up  to  her  room. 

"Beatrice,"  said  Guy,  "I  hope  you  are  not  offended.     This  gi 
saved  me  from  the  stake." 

She  stood  motionless  regarding  him. 

"Go  up   and   take  off  your  bonnet  and  return   to   me.      I   ha1 
much  to  tell  you." 

"Indeed !"   she  said,  and   turning  away,   slowly   ascended   to   t' 
second  story. 

How  long  Guy  waited  he  knew  not,  before  a  servant  appea] 
and  stated  that  Miss  Navarro  would  like  to  be  excused  from  seeii 
him  that  day. 


GUY  RAYMOND.  487 

CHAPTER  LXVI. 

Conveniently  situated  to  the  convent  of  the  Sacred  Heart  was 
another  religions  institution,  composed  of  women  who  had  renounced 
the  world,  as  constituted  by  the  tyranny  of  custom,  with  its  check- 
ered experiences,  and  who  devoted  their  time  and  energies  to  the 
alleviation  of  the  ills  with  which  a  false  civilization  has  honey- 
combed the  social  fabric.  As  at  the  convent,  the  members  of  this 
order  of  mercy  were  of  the  Roman  Catholic  faith.  Their  religious 
belief  was,  however,  not  obligatory  from  any  clause  in  the  organic 
law,  hut  rather  a  natural  resultant  of  the  encouragement  thrown 
out  by  the  Catholic  hierarchy  for  the  formation  of  charitable  institu- 
tions. In  the  convents,  whether  cloistered  or  not,  adhesion  to  the 
Catholic  doctrine  was  a  sine  qua  mm  For  admission  even  to  novitiates. 
The  Little  Sisters  of  the  Poor — for  that  was  the  name  of  the  chari- 
table order  in  <|iiesiion — were  beloved  and  respected  by  the  citizens, 
who  showed  them  every  mark  of  courtesy  whenever  their  well-known 
habits  told  of  their  presence  on  the  streets,  on  their  way  to  the 
hospitals  or  bent  upon  some  mission  of  mercy. 

The  morning  after  ilie  incidents  which  closed  the  preceding 
chapter  of  tin's  story,  the  doorbell  of  the  house  of  the  Little  Sisters 
announced  an  earlv  caller.  The  doorkeeper  admitted  a  woman  closely 
veiled  who  wished  to  speak  with  the  principal.  The  latter  soon 
responded,  when  the  visitor  handed  her  a  note,  which  she  at  once 
read,  after  motioning  the  other  to  a  seat. 

"You  think  you  could  stand  the  life?"  she  asked  of  her  visitor. 

"Stand  it!  Great  endurance  is  a  part  of  my  nature.  The 
mother  superior  wrote,  in  that  note,  that  I  am  an  Indian." 

"True — but  I  should  think  because  of  that  very  blood  you  would 
irrn\v  restive  under  restraint." 

"If  I  grew  restive  you  would  never  know  it.  Your  faith  encour- 
ages you  to  persevere  in  good  deeds  in  spite  of  difficulties  and  priva- 
tions. With  me  it  would  be  a  patient  philosophy." 

"It  is  true,  as  the  superior  states  in  her  note,  that  we  have  no 
expressed  rule,  that  fixes  our  religion,  and  it  is  only  by  implication 
that  we  must  be  Catholics.  We  could  not  admit  you  to  full  mem- 
bership, in  the  absence  of  all  precedent,  without  having  a  consulta- 
tion, and  seeking  the  advice  of  the  bishop.  However,  you  are  wel- 
come, and  we  shall  find  you  plenty  to  do  as  a  volunteer;  but  to 
co-operate  with  us  you  will  have  to  assume  our  dress." 

"I   thank  you  very  much,  good  lady." 


488  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"Sister  Agnes,  you  may  call  me.     Come  with  me  and 
provide  you  a  dress." 

"You  have  them  ready  made?" 

"Oh,  yes!  And  easy  to  suit.  We  are  not  so  particular  as  to  the 
cut  and  fit  of  our  dress.  We  leave  that  to  the  world;  service  is  the 
only  consideration  here." 

Laoni  followed  Sister  Agnes  from  the  apartment,  to  enter  upon 
a  role  which  she  little  anticipated  a  few  hours  before. 

When  she  regained  her  room  after  she  left  Guy  in  the  parlor 
she  began  to  deliberate  on  what  appeared  to  be  the  situation  of 
affairs  between  El  Bravo  and  the  young  lady  who  had  taken  such 
an  interest  in  her.  The  morning's  incidents  had  made  to  her  a 
revelation  that  she  might  have  anticipated  had  she  not  been,  as 
she  was,  a  genuine  child  of  nature,  pure  in  motives,  and  untainted 
by  the  shadow  of  selfishness  in  her  love  for  the  boy  hero  who  had 
come  to  her  mountain  home  to  change  the  whole  bent  of  her  exist- 
ence. El  Bravo  loved  her;  but  did  his  love  for  her  stand  as  a 
bulwark  to  withstand  the  inclinations  of  his  heart  to  break  away 
and  welcome  attachments  which  his  attractions  must  induce  from 
the  women  of  his  own  race? 

Her  philosophy  raised  the  point — her  good  sense  recognized  its 
potency. 

Beatrice's   steps  along  the  hall  to  her  own  room   attracted  her 
attention.     She  approached  the  closed   door  of  communication  an< 
listened.     Sobs  came  first — then  words: 

"Oh,  that  I  ever  loved  such  a  man !  Here,  under  this  roof,  with 
his  paramour — and  she  an  Indian!  The  impudence  to  go  to  this 
parlor — unasked  for — and  to  be  found  in  his  embrace.  He  may  take 
his  Indian  and  go — and  I  wish  him  the  joy  that  must  come  from 
such  congenial  company." 

Laoni  entered  Beatrice's  room. 

"Lady,  your  words  are  full  of  injustice.     If  the  Indian  girl 
of  an  inferior  race  she  is  the  more  proud  that  she  can  rise  above 
the  selfishness  of  the  white  girl.     You  cannot  love  this  man  more 
strongly  that  she  you  call  his  paramour.     You  cannot  respect  him 
so  well  or  you  would  not  attack  his  virtue  from  chance  appearance. 
If  I  love  him  it  is  for  his  bravery  and  for  a  gentle  modesty  which 
the  pure  alone  can  know.     Our  meeting  was  one  of  the  accidents  of 
life,  and  if  I  saved  him  from  the  flames  it  was  for  himself,  not 
for  Laoni — for  himself  to  work  out  a  destiny,  in  the  enjoyment 
the  friendships  which  his  nobleness  must  attract — in  the  light  of 
love  fit  for  virtuous  manhood.     If  this  lovelight  come  from  yoi 


of 
lot 

-' 


AYMOND. 

eyes  and  burn  in  your  bosom.  Laoni's  act  is  as  unregretted  as  her 
aim  was  unselfish  when  she  scattered  the  fagots  that  would  have 
destroyed  him." 

"If  you  are  so  unselfish,  why  did  you  rush  to  his  arms  when  he 
came  to  see  me?" 

"You  judge  me  wrong.     I  was  told  that  he  would  seek  me  here." 

"Wlio  was  your  informant?" 

"Do  you  remember  the  fellow  who  aimed  the  blow  at  the  monkey  ?" 

"That  ragamuffin?" 

"He  is  a  noble  fellow,  but  ignorant." 

"A  fit  go-between.  Leave  me,  if  you  please.     I  am  sick  of  this 
talk — sick  of  him — and  sick — of  you." 

"While  I  am  sorry  for  your  displeasure,  I  pity  your  weakness. 
When  selfishness  so  narrows  the  mind  that  justice  and  charity  are 
forced  to  retire — then  there  is  nothing  left  but  pity  for  the  unfor- 
tunate." 

"I  scorn  your  pity,  and  insist  that  you  take  yourself  away." 

"It  was  a  part  of  my  object  in  entering  your  room  to  tell  you  that 
I  am  about  to  leave.  What  should  have  been  a  bond  between  us  has 
made  separation  necessary." 

Laoni  closed  her  door  behind  her.  She  heard  the  message  sent 
below  through  the  servant  and  waited  to  hear  the  exit  of  Guy  Kay- 
mond.  She  went  to  the  veranda  and  watched  him  move  slowly 
and  dejectedly  away.  Her  look  followed  him  as  long  as  it  was  pos- 
sible to  see  him,  and  then  a  tear  glistened  in  her  eye  as  she  drew  down 
the  sash  and  made  preparations  to  depart.  Her  first  destination  was 
the  Convent.  Here  she  advised  with  the  good  Mother  Superior,  re- 
sulting in  her  determination  to  seek  refuge  with  the  "Little  Sisters 
of  The  Poor." 


Before  Nathan  had  had  an  opportunity  to  apprise  Guy  Kaymond 
that  a  dusky  maiden  was  desirous  to  see  him  so  soon  as  he  arrived 
in  the  city,  the  latter  made  his  unfortunate  call  at  the  Eivas  home. 
When  on  the  next  morning  he  stated  Laoni's  wishes,  Guy  merely 
said  that  the  interview  had  taken  place.  Disconcerted  at  what  had 
happened,  he  thought  it  a  good  idea  to  utilize  Nathan  in  discovering 
some  inkling  of  the  effect  of  the  denouement  of  the  day  before.  He 
informed  him  of  his  desire  to  learn  if  Laoni  was  still  at  the  house 
on  Esplanade  street,  and  if  not,  to  ascertain  her  present  whereabouts. 

"Yer  goin'ter  write  it  down?"  queried  Nathan. 

"Oh,  no !"  said  Guy.     "You  just  call  as  if  to  see  her  as  a  friend, 


490  GUY  RAYMOND. 

and  if  she  is  there  ask  her  privately  if  she  is  going  to  remain,  a 
if  not  where  she  is  going  to  and  that  I  wish  to  see  her/ 

"I  see ;  yer  wants  to  talk  'bout  ole  times.     Yer  mite  a  said  as  mu 
when  yer  seed  her." 

"I  saw  her  only  for  a  moment  and  had  not  time  to  speak  of  it." 

"Well,  its  nun  of  my  bizness'and  I'll  jess  do  as  yer  say." 

Nathan  started  out  on  the  trail,  as  he  mentally  expressed  his  mis- 
sion, to  iiixl  his  squaw  friend.  He  proceeded  some  distance  in  a 
kind  of  abstracted  manner  when  he  discovered  that  the  Rivas  address 
had  entirely  escaped  his  memory.  He  hesitated  a  moment  when 
he  realized  this  fact,  then  struck  out  at  a  rapid  pace  until  he  reached 
the  Convent  of  the  Sacred  Heart. 

Here  he  learned  from  the  nuns  the  new  address  of  his  friend. 
With  some  inquiry  he  found  the  house  of  the  Little  Sisters,  from 
which  he  saw  two  figures,  dressed  in  the  garb  of  the  order,  emerge 
and  proceed  down  the  street.  He  deliberated  a  moment  as  to 
whether  he  would  accost  these  for  information  or  enter  the  place  at 
once.  He  concluded  to  pursue  the  latter  course. 

Not  noticing  a  bell,  a  sister  responded  to  his  loud  raps. 

"Is  there  an  Injun  woman  here  named — named  Laoni?" 

"Laoni?     Not  that  I  know  of,  sir." 

"She  was  here ;  so  the  lady  said  over  at  the  Convent." 

"Wait  a  moment  and  I  will  see." 

The  sister  was  soon  back  and  announced : 

"The  person  you  inquired  for  just  went  out  as  you  came  in. 
was  with  another  sister." 

"Both  of  'em  had  on  them  ar  dresses  ?" 

"Yes ;  both  dressed  alike." 

"She's  jined,  then,"  Nathan  said  half  aside. 

The  sister  was  amused. 

"If  you  go  quickly  you  will  overtake  them." 

Nathan  took  the  hint  and  soon  his  long  strides  were  conveyi 
him  at  a  rapid  pace. 

"Whew !"  he  said  to  himself.     "Jined  them  ar  folks !     He's 
her  an'  had  a   row — bet   a   quarter.     Now  she's  ben   an'   gone   i 
done  it." 

Before  long  his  rapid  gait  brought  him  in  the  sight  of  the  t 
forms  who  had  left  the  house  of  the  Little  Sisters. 

Another  dilemma  confronted  Nathan. 

Which  was  which?  was  his  mental  query.      Both  the  same  height 
and  both  muffled  up  so  that  their  faces  could  not  be  distinguish 
He  followed  on  at  a  respectful  distance,  trying  to  formulate  a  cou 


i 


GUY  EAYMOND.  491 

of  procedure,  when  one  of  the  two  objects  of  his  interest  glider!  into 
the  door  of  a  building,  while  the  other  proceeded  on. 

Now,  Nathan  thought,  he  had  only  one  to  confront  and  he  trusted 
that  luck  would  make  that  one  Laoni. 

Striding  along  up  to  her  side,  he  touched  the  sister  on  the  shoulder. 

"Scuse  me,  mum.     Is  you  Miss  Laoni  ?" 

The  startled  woman  gave  a  slight.  seream,  and  seizing  each  side 
of  her  projecting  hood,  gazed,  frightened,  at  her  accostor  from  between 
her  hands. 

"Scuse  me,  I  said.     Didn't  mean  to  skeer  yer." 

"What  do  you  wish,  sir?" 

fcfcj  see  you  ain't  her.     Kin  yer  tell  ef  the  other  was?" 

"What  other?     Was  who?'" 

"Fact — I  didn't  say  who — Laoni,  the  one  that  jined  yer  today. 
Was  that  her  that  slipped  into  that  door?" 

"It  was  her;  but  you  must  wait  until  she  comes  out,  as  she  has 
gone  in  there  to  see  a  sick  person." 

Nathan  was  rather  crestfallen  at  this  announcement.  He  sat 
down  on  the  curb  to  think.  It  did  not  take  many  minutes  to  exhaust 
his  patience. 

He  determined  to  not  return  from  a  trail  so  fresh  as  the  one 
he  was  on,  and  vowed  that  he  would  get  the  information  Guy  wanted 
if  he  had  to  invade  the  sick  chamber. 

He  cautiously  opened  the  door  through  which  he  had  seen  the  sister 
disappear  from  the  street.  Inside  was  a  hall  with  a  flight  of  steps 
on  one  side  and  two  doors  on  the  other.  He  tread  lightly  as  he 
advanced  with  the  eat-like  movement  he  learned  in  his  Indian  scouts. 
The  house  was  so  still  that  it  seemed  to  invite  caution  without  any 
apparent  reason  for  it.  There  was  not  a  soul  in  the  two  lower  rooms. 
Nathan  noiselessly  ascended  the  steps  and  gained  the  upper  hall. 
Here  he  heard  the  soft  murmur  of  voices,  and  finally  located  the 
sounds  as  coming  from  a  room  on  his  left.  He  listened. 

"Sister  this  is  good  of  you,  but  what  you  can  do  for  me  will  be 
of  no  use.  Nursing,  anyone  can  do;  and  your  time  is  so  in  demand 
that  I  feel  it  will  be  wasted  on  me.  As  for  religion,  I  have  none, 
although  all  my  people  are  Catholics,  and  my  uncle  is  a  worthy 
priest." 

"I  assure  you,  religion  does  not  bring  me  here,  unless  it  is  the 
religion  of  humanity.  I  myself  have  no  faith — no  Christian  belief— 
but  my  heart  goes  out  to  all  my  fellow-creatures,  especially  if  the 
hand  of  adversity  be  upon  them." 

"Your  words   are   strange,   sister,   considering  your   calling,   but 


492  GUY  EAYMOND. 


e  gulf 


they  find  an  echo  in  my  heart.     The  hypocrisy  in  religion;  the 
that  separates  its  theory  and  practice,  digested  me  and  made  me  worse 
than  I  would  have  been  if  I  had  only  learned  the  morals  which  spring 
from  the  lessons  of  duty." 

"You  said  that  your  sickness  is  unnatural." 

"It  comes  from  slow  poison." 

"Slow  poison  ?" 

"Yes.  The  wretch  who  ruined  me,  who  owns  this  house,  has  ad- 
ministered it  under  the  name  of  tonic." 

"Have  you  taken  it  lately  ?v 

"Only  yesterday  I  discovered  it.  I  had  a  chemist  to  analyze  it 
without  his  knowledge." 

"He  should  suffer  for  it— the— 

Nathan  heard  the  conversation  up  to  this  point,  when  he  became 
aware,  as  well  as  alarmed,  at  the  approach  of  steps  from  below.  His 
attitude  had  a  rather  compromising  appearance,  although  his  mission 
was  one  of  conscience,  and  without  reflection,  he  darted  into  the  op- 
posite door.  The  apartment  in  which  he  found  himself  had  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  private  chamber  of  a  gentleman — half  study,  half 
sitting-room.  Easy  chairs,  a  table  with  pitcher  and  glasses,  shelves 
with  books,  before  which  curtains  were  partially  drawn,  and  a  lounge 
composed  the  principal  objects  of  its  furniture.  A  closet  to  the 
left  of  the  mantel  showed  through  a  half  open  shutter  a  number  of 
vials  and  a  bottle  or  two.  In  one  of  the  latter  a  pinkish  fluid  cov- 
ered an  inch  from  its  bottom.  Nathan  was  now  apprehensive  thai; 
the  person  might  enter  this  room,  and  to  prevent  discovery,  glided 
behind  the  curtains  which  veiled  the  book  shelves.  He  had  no  sooner 
gained  his  position  when  from  behind  the  curtains  he  saw  Ducio 
Half  en  enter.  The  villain  drew  off  his  coat  and,  taking  from  his 
pocket  a  large  wallet,  he  advanced  to  the  right  side  of  the  fireplace, 
and  touching  a  spot  in  a  panel  of  the  sealed  wall,  a  small  door  sprang 
open,  disclosing  what  appeared  to  be  an  iron  safe.  This  he  opened 
with  a  key,  and  depositing  the  wallet  in  an  inner  drawer,  he  reclosed 
the  hole. 

"Fifty  thousand  dollars  in  bills  and  securities!"  he  said  slowly. 
"That  makes  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  altogether,  and  in  good 
shape  to  get  away  with.  Fll  show  Eaymond,  Hamilton  and  company 
that  they  will  have  nothing  to  get  hold  of ;  neither  Half  en  nor  money." 

Nathan  grit  his  teeth  and  almost  whispered : 

"He  means  comp'ny  is  me." 

Ducio  went  to  the  closet  and  took  the  same  bottle  he  poured 
from  on  a  former  occasion,  and  putting  a  portion  of  the  pink  stuff 
in  a  glass,  added  water.  He  held  it  up,  saying: 


'UY  EAYMOND.  493 

"If  she  suspected  what  this  'tonic'  is !" 

"Now  to  her  room." 

As  he  passed  out  Nathan  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  and  when  he  heard 
him  shut  the  door  of  the  sick  room,  he  strode  from  his  position, 
and  seizing  the  bottle  of  tonic,  held  it  up,  saying : 

"Pizen,  I  reckon/' 

His  next  act  was  to  put  the  bottle  in  his  pocket. 

Proceeding  to  the  place  where  Ducio  had  opened  the  little  door, 
he  was  much  astonished  to  find  no  trace  of  one.  He  touched  the 
panels  in  many  places  affecting  the  manner  of  Ducio,  but  no  re- 
sponse came  to  his  manipulations. 

"I'm  blamed  ef  he  ain't  a  shore  nuff  rascal!  I'll  git  behint  the 
curtain  and  mebbe  he'll  do  it  agin,  and  I'll  watch  closer." 

The  Arkansian  examined  everything  in  the  room,  and  found  ar- 
ticles, the  use  of  which  he  could  not  guess.  The  amusement  served 
to  make  the  time  pass  rabidly  during  Ducio's  absence,  which  stretched 
out  to  many  minutes  before  the  noise  of  the  opening  of  the  opposite 
door  indicated  his  return.  Nathan  lost  no  time  in  seeking  his  hiding 
place.  The  first  thing  which  seemed  to  strike  Ducio  was  the  missing 
bottle.  He  looked  for  it  in  the  closet.  He  felt  certain  that  he  had 
left  it  on  the  table. 

"The  devil!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  must  find  it  and  throw  away  the 
contents,  for  I  believe,  from  her  manned,  she  suspects  that  it  is 
poison.  Could  I  have  been  so  absent-minded  that  I  locked  it  up  in 
the  safe?" 

So  saying  he  went  through  the  same  movements  to  open  .the 
shutter  and  the  safe.  The  bottle  was  not  there. 

"God !     Could  I  have  taken  it  in  her  room  and  left  it  there  ?" 

Evidently  frightened  at  this  surmise,  he  left  his  safe  open  and  hur- 
ried to  Josefa's  room. 

Nathan,  observing  his  opportunity,  sprang  to  the  open  safe  and, 
pulling  open  the  drawer,  he  took  the  wallet  and  the  other  contents 
out  and  shoved  them  into  his  capacious  pocket.  Eeplacing  the  drawer, 
he  was  back  in  hiding  just  as  Ducio  reappeared. 

"The  d — n  house  is  haunted,  or  she  has  got  that  bottle;  but  I  will 
swear  that  I  left  it  on  this  table.  Hell  and  furies!  I  left  the  safe 
open." 

He  quickly  banged  the  door  of  the  safe,  locked  it,  and  then  closed 
the  wooden  panel  with  an  air  of  relief. 

"Suppose  I  had  gone  out  and  left  it  open?"  he  mused  aloud. 
"Now,  I  must  go  and  make  my  arrangements.  Financially,  I  am 
all  right.  The  next  thing  is  to  bluff  Eaymond,  Hamilton  and  com- 


ea 

r 

»r 


494  GUY  RAYMOND. 

pany  in  their  designs  on  myself.     But  d — n  me,  if  I  can  undertsa 
about  that  bottle." 

It  was  not  until  Ducio  slammed  the  front  door  that  Nathan  issued 
from  behind  the  curtain. 

"He  sed  I  was  the  company;  wasn't  wuth  naming  but  peers 
me  company  is  somethin'  in  this  'ere  game." 

While  he  spoke  he  drew  out  the  late  contents  of  the  drawer, 
and  seating  himself  at  the  table,  he  gave  the  packages  a  partial  in- 
spection. The  wallet  was  the  first  looked  over,  then  several  envelopes 
were  peeped  into.  A  packet  tied  neatly  with  red  tape  offered  so  much 
resistance  to  his  clumsy  fingers  that  he  concluded  not  to  open  it. 
What  he  saw  proved  an  enigma,  for  Nathan  never  heard  of  bills 
of  exchange,  certificates  of  deposit  and  the  like.  All  were  replaced 
in  his  pocket  and  he  descended  to  the  street  without  having  been 
discovered.  His  intention  was  to  make  his  presence  known  and  call 
for  Laoni,  but  he  was  saved  the  trouble  by  the  appearance  of  the 
new  sister  in  the  street  door. 

"Howdy,"  he  said. 

"Do  you  know  me  in  this  dress  ?" 

"In  that  rig;  but  mebbe  I'd  a  had  to  look  twict  ef  they  hadn't  tole 
me." 

"The  sisters?" 

"The  one  that  come  with  yer." 

"You  have  been  waiting  all  this  time?" 

"He  tole  me  to  see  yer  and  find  out  whar  yer  staid." 

"El  Bravo?" 

"Yes;  him." 

"Poor  El  Bravo!" 

"Not  so  pore  when  I  gits  thru  with  him,  ef  I  ain't  mor'n  comp'ny." 

"Is  he  happy?" 

"Ef  he  ain't  he  orto  be ;  rich  and  all  the  gals  pityin'  him." 

"If  he  wishes  to  see  me  he  can  find  me  out  by  asking  at  the  Little 
Sisters'  house  on street." 

"Fm  cocked  and  primed  on  that  ar.     "Done  ben  thar.     And 
you  jined!     But  see  here,   miss;   it   ain't  no   proper   callin'   for   a 
Injun  woman  and  a  likely  one  like  ye  are.     Yer  will  shoreiy  pine 
away  in  this  here  town.     It  ain't  wuth  shucks." 

The  couple  moved  on  up  the  street  as  they  conversed,  attractii 
the  attention  frequently  of  the  populace.  The  lean,  angular  for 
of  the  man  towering  above  the  sombre  figure  of  the  sister,  who 
raised  her  face  to  his  to  address  him  or  to  catch  a  fuller  meaning 
for  his  odd  expressions.  Nathan  was  well  satisfied  with  himself 
and  this  complacency  was  not  lessened  by  the  knowledge  that  in  his 


YMOND. 

homely  coat  he  bore  the  vouchers  to  a  fortune.  The  fact  lent  a  zest 
to  his  inclination  to  advise  his  Indian  friend  on  the  plans  for  her 
future. 

CHAPTER  LXVII. 

Beatrice's  feelings  in  regard  to  the  apparent  unfaithfulness  of 
her  lover  were  not  at  all  softened  by  the  calm  utterances  of  Laoni 
in  reply  to  her  charges  and  inuendoes.  Her  passionate  nature  had 
budded  and  bloomed  in  a  Spanish  atmosphere  and  inherited  the  fire 
of  the  Castillian  blood.  The  love  she  bore  for  Guy  Raymond  was 
pa<sion  or  nothing.  The  accidents  of  intercourse  could  not  modify 
its  volume  nor  change  its  bent.  Her's  was  not  a  disposition  to  crush 
the  selfishness  from  love  and  view,  with  unabated  interest,  the  loved 
one  through  an  altruistic  lens.  With  Laoni,  Guy's  affection  for  an- 
other mattered  little  if  its  bestowal  contributed  to  his  happiness. 
The  altruistic  character  of  her  regard  for  the  youth  who  had  awakened 
the  dormant  nobility  of  her  simple  nature,  elevated  her  above  the 
pitfalls  which  beset  the  course  of  love  springing  from  mere  sexual 
attraction. 

Beatrice  awoke  on  the  morning  following  her  dismissal  of  Guy 
unrefreshed  and  feverish  from  a  restless  night.  An  analysis  of 
her  mental  state  would  have  discovered  a  prevailing  resentment 
whose  force  had  a  dual  direction.  Her  first  decision  wa.s  that  Guy 
should  feel  the  share  harbored  for  him,  and  under  this  impulse  she 
dashed  off  a  communication,  full  of  cutting  phrases,  yet  coolly  and 
definitely  expressing  her  determination  to  see  him  no  more.  The 
note  was  read  over,  then  folded  and  laid  upon  her  writing  desk.  She 
had  not  seen  her  maid  since  she  had  dismissed  her  in  anger,  but 
it  was  not  long  before  she  discovered  that  Laoni  had  not  occupied 
her  room,  and  that  she  must  have  left  the  premises  the  evening  before. 
As  the  day  wore  on,  Beatrice  felt  her  heart  soften  towards  him 
whose  arrival  she  had  so  longed  for  for  months,  and  she  began  to  find 
herself  forming  more  than  one  excuse  for  the  convicting  appear- 
ances which  had  so  nettled  her  bosom. 

She  concluded  to  write  another  note. 

The  tenor  of  this  later  communication  was  radically  different 
from  the  one  written  in  the  early  morning.  It  was  really  apolo- 
getic for  having  so  far  misjudged  him  as  to  call  forth  her  abrupt 
message  through  a  servant.  She  owned  to  a  soreness,  caused  from  con- 
clusions suggested  by  appearam -PS  thai  were  at  first  glance  manifestly 
compromising  to  himself,  but  hinted  that  explanations  would  be  in 


496  GUY  RAYMOND. 


•h  he 


order  to  set  himself  right,  if  he  still  cherished   the  love  which 
once  professed. 

This  note  she  folded  and  laid  beside  the  other,  but  taking  up  the 
first  she  reread  it,  half  smiling  at  its  stinging  phrases,  then  opening 
the  desk  she  dropped  it  in,  mentally  resolving  to  preserve  it  as  a 
curiosity.  While  she  was  thus  engaged,  the  house  maid  came  in  to 
straighten  the  apartment  and  its  mistress  temporarily  vacated  it. 

Housemaids,  like  other  women,  have  their  quota  of  curiosity,  but 
the  world's  experience  proves  that  those  who  follow  the  laudable 
avocation  of  housemaid  have  absorbed  an  undue  proportion  of  this 
distinguishing  trait  in  feminine  character.  The  maid  had  an  inkling 
of  the  trouble  that  had  sent  the  young  lady  to  the  seclusion  of  her 
chamber,  dismissed  the  gentleman  caller,  and  made  a  vacancy  in 
the  position  of  lady's  maid.  She  took  in  the  note  reading,  the 
expression  of  the  reader,  the  deposit  in  the  desk,  and  the  folded 
communication  lying  on  its  top.  It  was  a  golden  opportunity. 
Beatrice  gone,  the  note  in  reach.  The  maid  spelled  through  its 
contents,  while  she  pricked  her  ears  to  detect  any  approach.  Only 
half  satisfied,  she  went  to  the  door,  listened,  then  returning  to  the 
desk,  she  raised  its  lid  and  drew  forth  the  note  deposited  there  by 
Beatrice  a  few  moments  before.  The  girl's  eyes  brightened  as  she 
gleaned  the  import  of  its  cutting  sentences.  She  had  not  completed 
the  reading  before  the  sounds  of  footsteps  alarmed  her.  Hastily 
folding  the  notes  she  raised  the  desk  lid  and  dropped  in  the  last 
written  note.  The  one  she  had  taken  out  of  the  desk  she  placed 
in  full  view  upon  its  top.  Satisfied  that  she  had  placed  everything 
exactly  as  found,  she  began  to  ply  her  broom  to  the  cadence  of  a  low 
air,  which  it  was  her  habit  to  hum. 

That  morning  Beatrice  dispatched  a  note  to  Guy  Raymond.  The 
note  sent  was  taken  from  the  top  of  the  desk  where  she  had  placed 
it  about  an  hour  before.  Her  heart  felt  lighter  as  she  speculated  on 
the  probable  effect  of  her  missive  and  she  congratulated  herself  that 
the  first  one  written  was  safe  inside  her  escritoire. 

Guy's  reception  by  the  woman  he  loved  had  half  dazed  him.  He 
secluded  himself  for  the  next  day,  and  when  he  issued  from  his  retreat 
it  was  only  to  visit  his  sister  and  aunt.  His  steps  were  first  directed 
to  the  Sacred  Heart,  where  he  called  for  Stella.  With  the  latter 
he  proceeded  to  the  Rue  Royale.  Mrs.  Raymond  was  never  a  favor- 
ite with  her  nephew.  She  so  differed  from  his  dead  mother; 
the  latter  being  the  standard  by  which  he  gauged  womanly  character. 
It  was  during  this  call  upon  his  aunt  that  he  received  the  note  from 
Beatrice,  directed  to  Mrs.  Raymond's  lodgings.  The  taciturnity 
of  the  nephew  had  been  noted  by  the  woman  of  the  world  and  her 


GUY  RAYMOND.  497 

sharp-witted  mind  detected  the  change  produced  in  Guy's  manner, 
as  he  obviously  recognized  the  handwriting  of  the  superscription. 
If  it  were  not  for  respect  for  his  aunt's  presence,  it  was  doubtless 
from  a  desire  for  greater  privacy  that  he  consigned  the  note  to  his 
pocket  unread. 

A  hope  stirred  within  him  that  the  mute  messenger  would  give 
him  consolation. 

He  became  more  communicative  and  his  conversation  drew  elas- 
ticity from  a  lighter  frame  of  mind. 

When  he  was  on  his  way  back  to  the  Convent  with  Stella,  she 
suddenly  asked : 

"Who  was  your  note  from,  brother?1' 

"Why?" 

"Was  it  not  from  Beatrice?" 

"Yes." 

"  \nd  you  have  not  read  it?" 

"You  know  I  have  not." 

"What's  the  matter,  brother  ?     You  have  barely  mentioned  her." 

"Let  us  talk  of  something  else." 

"0,  Guy!" 

As  Stella  made  tlie  latlcr  exclamation,  a  sister  of  charity  turned 
the  corner  and  brushed  by  them.  She  wore  the  habit  of  the  Little 
Sisters,  and  from  under  her  long  bonnet  she  gave  the  pair  a  searching 
glance. 

It  was  Laoni,  who  had  just  quitted  Nathan's  escort  to  return 
to  her  new  home.  She  would  have  accosted  her  friend,  but  the 
circumstance  of  his  being  in  such  apparently  intimate  relations  with 
Stella  startled  even  her  Indian  nature  and  produced  sensations 
which  for  the  moment  precluded  utterance  of  words.  Guy's  company 
was  the  girl  who  claimed  the  medal  which  he  said  he  had  lost.  Was 
Guy  Raymond  untruthful?  Impossible!  Yet  this  girl  was  hanging 
upon  his  arm  and  owned  the  medal  which  she  had  given  him. 

"Was  that  one  of  the  nuns?"  he  asked  of  Stella. 

"Oh,  no !"  she  replied.  "They  have  a  different  dress.  You  saw 
their  habit  at  the  Convent." 

"Yes;  but  I  took  little  notice  of  it." 

"She  who  just  passed  is  one  of  the  Little  Sisters  of  the  Poor.  A 
pure  Indian  girl  joined  them  this  week;  the  same  that  Aunt  Ida 
mentioned  in  connection  with  her  robbery.  She  was  found  in  pos- 

ion  of  my  medal.  Oh  !  I  must  show  \<>u  my  medal;  the  one  Mr. 
Trijig  sent  me." 

"A  medal?  The  old  rn;ni  mentioned  it  on  his  death  bod  nnd  Ins 
words  impressed  me,  as  I  was  *till  deploring  the  loss  of  a  medal  of 


498  GUY  RAYMOND. 

singular  workmanship,  which  had  been  given  to  me  by  a  very  d 
friend/' 

The  two  had  reached  the  Convent  gate  at  this  point  of  their  co 
versation,  when  Guy,  whose  mind  was  on  the  unopened  communica- 
tion from  Beatrice  in  his  pocket,  excused  himself  to  his  sister,  prom- 
ising to  call  for  her  the  next  morning.  He  took  a  brisk  gait  down 
the  street  and,  when  he  had  turned  a  corner,  his  hand  sought  the 
note  in  his  pocket. 

Moving  slowly  he  tore  it  open,  then  halting,  he  leaned  against 
a  post  of  an  awning  and  in  a  few  momentvS  knew  its  contents.  As 
he  read,  the  warm  blood  colored  his  cheek;  his  hand  trembled  so 
that  the  paper  shook  like  a  leaf,  then  his  arm  fell  listless,  while 
the  fingers  crushed  the  missive  in  a  clenched  embrace. 

His  first  words  were  uttered  in  a  faltering  voice : 

"Was  it  love,  or  infatuation?  Can  she  be  worthy  who  could 
write  this  stinging  note,  even  with  provocation  ?" 

He  summoned  to  his  support  his  calm  philosophy. 

Beatrice  had  manifested  noble  traits  which  had  commanded  his 
admiration  and  inspired  his  love.  He  imagined  she  owned  a  force 
of  character  which  fortified  her  against  hasty  judgments.  But  here, 
in  his  hand,  was  evidence  of  a  morbid  sensibility  capable  of  mul- 
tiplying the  woes  of  life  from  the  mere  appearances  of  wrong.  Yet, 
could  there  be  love  without  more  or  less  selfishness  permeating  its 
sensuous  labyrinths?  Any  other  love  must  be  purely  altruistic,  and 
had  this  latter  love  any  existence?  His  mental  inquiry  was  answered 
by  a  mental  picture.  There  were  the  outlines  of  a  mountain,  upon 
whose  side  a  female  figure  waved  her  hand  to  a  receding  horseman.  A 
little  sigh  escaped  Guy's  lips  as  his  heart,  sore  with  disappointment, 
was  touched  with  a  tender  memory  of  one  true  devotion  which, 
although  never  requited,  yet  burned  with  steady  and  undiminished 
flame.  Lost  in  his  reflections,  he  passed  the  portals  of  the  institu- 
tion of  the  Little  Sisters.  One  of  the  inmates  lingered  upon  the 
porch,  watching  him  with  interest.  As  lie  passed,  she  followed  him 
with  her  eyes,  while  in  low,  familiar  tones,  she  said : 

"Oh,  El  Bravo !     You,  too,  are  sad." 


The  night  following  Guy's  receipt  of  Beatrice's  note,  George's 
cafe  had  its  accustomed  quota  of  frequenters,  who  had  gathered  at 
early  lamplight  to  spend  their  small  change  in  drinking  or  annipe- 
MH'tit,  or  to  lounge  in  the  front,  entertained  by  some  news  peddler 
From  among  the  denizens  of  the  city,  or  listening  i<>  a  yarn  spun 
by  a  loquacious  sailor  or  longshoreman. 


GUY  EAYMOND.  499 

Within  the  bar,  George  was  just  resting  from  an  active  dispen- 
sation of  drinkables,  when  a  young  man  entered  from  an  inner  side 
door  and  approaching  him,  said,  in  a*n  undertone : 

"They  want  you  in  there;"  at  the  same  time  motioning  with  his 
head  in  the  direction  of  the  door  which  had  admitted  him. 

George  made  no  reply,  but  followed  the  messenger.  They  both 
disappeared  through  the  side  door.  The  room  they  entered  was  a 
private  apartment,  maintained  for  purposes  which  would  not  admit 
of  the  general  presence  of  the  public. 

Around  a  table  were  several  familiar  faces.  Guy  sat  facing  the 
door;  on  his  right  Hamilton  posed,  with  an  elbow  on  the  table,  while 
his  fingers  combed  the  wavy  locks  about  his  brow.  On  the  left 
Manuel  Euiz  sat  upright,  with  an  easy  grace,  in  contrast  with  the 
ungainly  make-up  of  Nathan  Eoach,  who  bestrode  a  chair,  while 
his  elbows  rested  upon  its  back  to  support  the  bony  chin  enclosed 
within  his  palms.  Perry  came  in  with  the  ex-pirate. 

Hamilton  spoke : 

"Mr.  George,  is  Half  en  in  the  city?" 

"I  don't  think  he  has  left." 
ere  can  he  be  found  ?" 

e  has  several  hiding  places,  but  I  think  he  is  generally  at 
No. Custom  House  street." 

"Thaf  s  the  place  I  spoke  to  you  about,"  said  Hamilton,  addressing 
Guy. 

"He  comes  here  often,  does  he  not?"  continued  the  Mississippian, 
with  the  intonation  of  a  cross-examiner  of  a  witness. 

"Not  often  now,  but  I  expect  him  tonight." 

Hamilton  leaned  over  to  Nathan  and  whispered  something. 

A  gleam  of  intelligence  illumined  for  an  instant  the  features  of 
the  latter,  as  he  arose  and  spoke  aside  to  George  in  a  tone  that  did  not 
reach  the  ears  of  the  others. 

In  another  moment  he  resumed  his  seat,  giving  a  nod  to  Hamilton, 
he  latter  again  interrogated  the  witness: 

bu  are  ready  to  carry  out  all  you  promised  in  this  matter  we 
ve  against  Ducio  Half  en?" 

"I  am,  with  the  understanding  that  you  gentlemen  are  to  protect 
me  as  you  promised." 

"We  are  pledged,"  replied  Hamilton. 

"That's  what  we  are,"  exclaimed  Nathan,  stretching  his  legs  and 
clasping  his  hands  behind  his  head.  "We  ain't  arter  yer  scalp." 

George  was  here  dismissed. 

"Now,  Mr.  Eoach,"  said  Guy.  "what  is  it  that  you  have  to  show?" 
athan  cleared  his  throat  and,  rising,  ran  his  hand  into  his  deep 


500  GUY  RAYMOND, 

pocket,  from  which  he  drew  the  prizes  he  captured  in  Ducio's  room. 

"What's  in  the  bottle?"  asked  Ruiz,  smiling  at  Nathan's  manne] 

"Pizen,  I  reckon.    It's  what  He's  feedin'  his  wife  on." 

Guy  and  Hamilton  began  to  inspect  the  contents  of  the  packages 
and  envelopes,  and  as  they  progressed  they  would  hold  up  their 
discoveries  and  pass  remarks  upon  the  evidence  which  each  mutely 
proffered  of  Ducio's  villainy,  or  of  his  preparations  to  depart. 

"This  is  a  haul  you've  made,  Mr.  Roach,  and  no  mistake,"  said 
Guy. 

"Who  would  have  guessed  such  shrewdness  lurked  beneath  an  ex- 
terior so  verdant!"  exclaimed  Hamilton. 

"Yes,"  responded  Nathan;  "comp'ny  done  it  all.  Peers  to  me 
comp'ny  is  the  biggest  part  of  the  bizness." 

"What  about  the  key  of  that  safe,  Mr.  Eoach  ?"  asked  Hamilton, 
gravely  imitating  Guy  in  mistering  the  backwoodsman. 

"Yer  seen  me  talk  to  him  when  yer  give  me  the  sign.  Well,  he 
sed  he'll  shore  git  it  tonight  ef  Half  en  comes." 

Ruiz  wondered  how  he  would  manage  that. 

"Steal  it;  steal  it,"  suggested  Nathan.     "Thief  to  ketch  a  thief." 

"Well,  what  is  to  be  the  program?"  asked  Hamilton. 

"As  you  are  a  lawyer,"  said  Guy,  "let  us  hear  from  you.  You 
are  leading  counsel  in  the  case." 

"Well,  let  us  see.  We  must  find  the  will.  I  will  name  the  pro- 
ceedings in  their  order: 

"A  search  warrant ;  arrest,  if  he  can  be  found ;  examination  of  his 
house;  examination  of  his  safe,  if  the  key  is  to  be  had ;  dying  declara- 
tion of  his  wife  or  companion. 

"If  we  progress  this  far,  other  steps  will  suggest  themselves  as 
the  case  will  unfold.     An  inventory  of  these  papers  and  documeni 
should  be  made  and  deposited   for  safe  keeping,  and  then  we  c; 
adjourn  this  meeting  until  some  hour  tomorrow,  when  we  will  be 
possession  of  the  search  warrant  and,  possibly,  the  key,  which  Geoi 
has  agreed  to  produce." 

An  hour  later  the  friends  separated  for  their  lodgings. 

CHAPTER  LXYIII. 

Josefa  still  lingered  in  her  sick  room.  The  Little  Sisiers  li; 
supplied  her  with  the  necessary  attendance,  which  Ducio  had  fail< 
to  provide.  Laoni  was  the  most  frequent  watcher  by  her  side.  The 
day  after  she  had  encountered  Guy  and  Stella  arm  in  arm.  sho  found 
her  patient  much  worse,  and  became  convinced  that  the  end  was  near. 


rerr  RAYMOND. 

There  were  times,  lasting  for  minutes,  in  which  her  mind  was  clear 
and  her  pain  would  subside.  In  one  of  these  intervals  she  requested 
her  attendant  to  summon  the  druggist  who  had  been  preparing  the 
tonic  which  she  had  been  taking. 

The  errand  was  soon  performed  and  the  druggist  of  the  vicinage 
stood  by  her  bedside. 

"You  have  prepared  the  tonic  which  Mr.  Halfen  has  been  getting 
for  me?"  Josef  a  asked. 

"I  have,  madanie." 

"What  is  the  dose?" 

"Ten  drops." 

"Could  more  be  taken  ?" 

"It  could  be  increased  gradually/' 

"What  would  be  the  effect  of  the  tonic  if  administered  from  the 
beginning  in  doses  of  a  tablespoon  full,  more  or  less,  three  times  a 
day?" 

"It  would  act  like  a  slow  poison." 

"If  one  should  so  take  it  for  two  months?" 

"It  would  be  a  powerful  constitution  that  could  withstand  it  so 
long." 

"Then  I  must  have  a  powerful  constitution,  for  I  have  taken  it 
in  such  doses  for  sixty  days." 

"The  directions  were  plainly  given." 

"And  he  understood  them.     Oh,  that  villain !" 

Josefa  here  passed  into  a  semi-conscious  state,  muttering  words 
incoherent  or  unintelligible. 

"Sister,"  said  the  druggist,  "this  Madame  Halfen,  where  does 
she  come  from  ?" 

"She  says  that  she  is  a  Mexican,  and  came  here  from  San  Antonio, 
in  Texas." 

"Her  maiden  name  was ?" 

"I  do  not  know  it — more  than  Josefa ;  that  is  what  he  calls  her." 

"Josefa  de  la  Torre!  It  must  be  the  same.  She  is  wasted,  but 
the  voice  I  cannot  forget.  Poor  Josefa!  Sister,  I  was  once  her 
father's  secretary,  and  knew  her  when " 

Confused  sounds  in  the  hall  interrupted  any  further  homily  on 
the  part  of  the  druggist,  and  Laoni,  on  opening  the  door,  was  con- 
fronted by  Nathan  and  a  stranger. 

"You.  here  ?"  exclaimed  Nathan. 
res ;  it  is  my  watch,"  she  replied. 
Jtill  stickin'  to  'em." 
i at  do  you  mean?" 
"hort  yer'd  a  tired  of  'em  and  that  audacious  riggin'  afore  now." 


502  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"Who  is  with  you,  and  what  is  wanted?" 

"This  feller  is  a  offisser  and  has  a  serch  warrant  to  'low  us 
ransack  that  room  or  any  other  place  in  this  here  house." 

Laoni  saw  Guy  Raymond  among  the  others  in  the  hall,  and  ii 
mediately  turned  towards  the  sick  bed  to  avoid  being  recognized. 

The  party  took  possession  of  Ducio's  sanctum;  the  druggist  took 
his  departure  and  the  volunteer  sister  was  left  alone  with  her  charge. 

Josef  a  again  rallied,  and  fixing  her  clear,  dark  eyes  upon  her 
attendant,  inquired  for  the  druggist. 

"He  has  gone,"  said  Laoni. 

"I  never  saw  him  before,  yet  his  voice  is  so  familiar." 

"Laoni,"  she  continued,  "I  wish  to  make  a  dying  declaration.  I 
am  nearly  gone  and  I  want  to  leave  behind  me  evidence  that  will 
avenge  me  upon  my  destroyer." 

"You  are  too  weak  now.     Don't  think  of  it." 

"But  I  will  be  no  stronger ;  this  gradual  sinking  makes  me  weaker 
with  time." 

"I  will  tell  your  wish  to  parties  now  in  the  house,  who  are  search- 
ing for  something  in  his  room." 

Has  it  gone  that  far?  I  expected  it.  Ducio's  career  of  crime 
will  not  last  much  longer  than  the  life  he  has  wrecked." 


A  week  has  passed.  In  that  short  space  much  has  transpired 
affecting  the  actors  in  this  now  closing  narrative. 

Josefa  died  the  second  day  after  the  execution  of  the  search  war- 
rant, in  the  full  possession  of  her  mind.  She  was  surrounded  by 
kind  and  pitying  faces,  among  whom  were  Linda  and  her  husband, 
Manual  Ruiz.  Nathan  also  was  in  the  room,  visibly  affected.  Be- 
side her  was  a  priest  of  the  Roman  church.  Bis  benevolent 
features  seemed  better  fitted  for  the  smile  which  one  could  not 
fail  to  observe  must  often  deepen  the  dimples  of  his  cheek,  than  for 
the  troubled,  anxious  expression  which  clouded  them.  The  reverend 
attendant  was  Father  Ignacio.  His  hope,  when  he  received  the  sum- 
mons to  come  to  his  sister's  wayward  child,  was  to  reclaim  her  soul 
at  the  last  moment.  But  Josefa  died  as  she  had  lived — a  skeptic, 
refusing  the  last  holy  rites  at  the  hands  of  her  uncle.  Laoni  looked 
on  mutely  at  the  efforts  to  overcome  the  unbelief  of  the  niece,  the 
good  Father  little  suspecting  that  the  sisters'  garb  draped  a  person- 
ality an i mji tod  by  a  mind  equally  skeptical.  Indeed,  he  frequently 
called  the  sister  to  his  aid  when  ho  wished  fo  impress  upon  Josofn 
the  necessity  of  faith  and  repentance.  But  Laoni,  silent,  merely 


GUY  EAYMOND.  503 

bent  Jicr  head,  sorrier  for  the  anxious  uncle  than  for  the  dying  niece, 
who.  six-  believed,  had  suffered  enough  to  more  than  balance  the  pains 
of  the  alleged  purgatory. 

Guy  and  Hamilton  were  not  present,  hut  armed  with  the  last 
declaration  of  Jbsefa,  they  were  working  to  prevent  the  escape  of 
Ducin  from  the  city.  The  search  warrant  had  placed  Guy  in  pos- 
session of  Mr.  Trigg's  will,  which  was  found  in  the  safe  from  which 
X  a  than  had  abstracted  the  papers.  But  the  wily  Ducio  had  eluded 
their  traps  and.  rumor  stated  that  he  had  fled  to  Texas. 

Mrs.  Raymond  took  exceptions  to  Guy's  neglectful  treatment,  as 
she  termed  it,  of  herself,  he  having  called  upon  her  but  once,  and 
whisked  off  to  her  plantation.  She  did  not  forgive  Beatrice  for  daring 
to  employ  the  Indian  girl,  and  when  she  went  to  say  good-bye  to 
Stella,  she  remarked  that  her  brother  and  the  Mexican  girl  were  about 
on  a  par  and  well  matched. 

But  Beatrice!     What  of  Beatrice! 

For  days  after  sending  her  note  to  Guy  she  had  waited  his  ex- 
pected coming  to  effect  the  reconciliation,  which  her  communication 
was  intended  to  make  more  than  probable.  But  her  lover  came  not, 
and  she  became  convinced  that  he  had  never  truly  loved  her,  if  the 
memory  of  the  unfortunate  episode  at  their  meeting  could  not  be 
effaced  by  the  conciliatory  and  almost  apologetic  tone  of  her  writ- 
ing. Keen  disappointment  was  followed  by  depressing,  relentless, 
lie,-!  rtache  as  the  dragging  hours  multiplied  and  yet  he  stayed.  Wretch- 
edness and  humiliation  succeeded,  and  would  have  leveled  her  to  the 
dust  had  not  pride  come  to  relieve  with  its  bouyant,  if  not  remedial 
results.  In  a  frame  of  mind  that  may  be  depicted  frojn  her  woful 
experience,  Beatrice  came  face  to  face  with  the  priest  of  San  Fernando. 

"Beatrice!     Hija  mia,"  were  his  first  words. 

"Father !  you  here  ?"  was  her  reply  as  she  placed  her  hand  in  that 
of  the  priest. 

"You  have  not  heard  ?  Josef  a  is  dead.  I  came  in  time  to  see  her 
pass  away." 

"I  knew  she  was  in  the  city,  but  her  false  step  was  a  bar  to  our 
intercourse.  Of  course  I  could  not  recognize  her." 

"We  are  all  sinners  in  our  own  peculiar  way,  my  child.  Josefa 
made  a  mistake — a  great  mistake — in  fact,  her  whole  life  was  a  mis- 
take ;  but  she  had  some  good  traits,"  pleaded  Father  Ignacio. 

"Mistake — mistake — "  repeated  Beatrice,  absent-mindedly.  "Yes, 
!  made  a  mistake." 

"You  ?    You  have  made  one?    What  mistake,  hija?" 

"True!  We  were  speaking  of  Josefa,"  said  Beatrice,  recovering 
from  her  abstraction.  "With  the  loss  of  virtue,  what  is  woman?" 


;r~ 


504  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"Yet,"  said  the  priest,  "the  Master  never  uttered  a  more  fitting 
rebuke  than  when  he  spoke  the  words  'Let  him  who  hath  no  sin  cast 
the  first  stone  at  her/ '; 

"No  one  is  perfect,"  said  Beatrice,  only  half  addressing  the  father. 
"Not  even  he." 

"Halfen  perfect!  The  question  should  be,  has  he  a  redeeming 
trait?" 

Beatrice  blushed  as  she  comprehended  Father  Ignacio's  misinter- 
pretation of  her  allusion  to  Guy. 

"Tell  me,  father,  when  do  you  return  to  Texas?" 

"The  day  after  tomorrow,  if  nothing  happens  to  prevent." 

"I  will  go  with  you." 

"You?" 

"Yes— I  must— I  will." 

"But,  hija,  I  go  by  Red  river ;  a  long  and  tedious  way." 

"It  matters  not.     I  must  go,  and  I  prefer  your  company." 

"Well,  hija,  if  you  will;  but  let  us  walk;  I  am  going  to  the  Con- 
vent, and  you  ?" 

"To  the  same  place." 

As  the  priest  and  lady  turned  to  move  away,  the  eyes  of  a  couple 
across  the  street  followed  them,  as  if  they  were  recognized.  The 
couple  were  not  observed  by  Beatrice  nor  her  escort,  or  the  former 
would  have  recognized  the  man  to  be  her  deliverer  from  the  monkey's 
assault,  and  the  woman  as  her  late  maid  and  probable  rival- 

"Ef  that  aint'  the  Saint  Antone  priest!"  exclaimed  Nathan. 

"The  other  is  Miss  Navarro,"  said  Laoni. 

"Yer  don't  know  the  preacher,  then  ?" 

"He  is  a  priest,  from  his  dress." 

"Yaas,  that's  so ;  his  name's  Father  Nash-sho,  and  he's  sho'  a  f 
to  Guy  Raymond." 

"Is  the  name  Ignacio?" 

"That's  what  I  sed." 

"He  took  my  part  today." 

"How?" 

"You  see  I  no  longer  wear  the  Sisters'  dress." 

"Yaas,  I  was  a-goin'  to  ask  yer.    Yer've  quit  'em?" 

"The  bishop  told  the  sisters  that  he  could  not  allow  me  to  be  o 
of  them — even  in  name." 

"Not  'low  yer?     He's  got  the  say-so?" 

"He  was  shocked  at  my  lack  of  religion." 

"So  yer  ain't  got  nun?" 

"I*have  plenty  of  religion,  but  I  have  not,  it  seems,  the  faith 


GUY  RAYMOND.  505 

all  their  mysteries  and  miracles  which  they  consider  necessary  for  a 

son  to  have,  to  escape  punishment  in  eternal  fire." 

"It's  a  hot  place,  they  say/"'  said  Nathan  seriously. 

"So  the  bishop,  who  is  probably  a  good  man  in  spite  of  his  bigotry, 
insisted  I  must  put  off  the  dress  and  be  not  allowed  to  assist  them  in 
their  good  work." 

"Well,  it's  better  fur  ye,"  said  Nathan  consolingly. 

"And  it  seems/'  continued  Laoni,  "that  this  Father  Ignacio,  who 
heard  the  bishop's  order,  interceded  for  me." 

"Jes'  like  him — jes'  like  him;  he  almos'  fit  the  night  we  took  out 
~Nr.  Raymond.  An'  the  bishop  wouldn't  lissen?" 

"No,  he  feared  I  might  do  harm." 

"Well,  yer  better  off.  Yer  shan't  want  a  frien's  long  as  Nathan 
Roach's  got  the  wli  ere  with.  Go  back  to  Texis  with  me.  I'm  goin' 
to  stay  home  a  day  in  Arkinsaw,  an'  then  I  pitches  out  fur  Texis  and 
liberty.  I'll  interdoose  yer  to  my  ole  mother.  I've  got  bosses  and 
saddles,  and  Mister  Raymond's  ben  liberal  fur  what  I've  done,  an' 
1  ain't  pore  by  a  jugfull.  So,  Miss  Laoni,  come,  an'  I'll  fight  fur 
ye  an'  die  fur  ye,  ef  it  comes  to  the  scratch ;  an'  there  ain't  a  man  that 
kin  stan'  an'  charge  Nathan  Roach  with  cowardice  an'  not  stickin'  to 
a  promiss." 

"Thanks — many  thanks,  my  friend.  I  will  think  it  over.  I  am 
going  to  say  good-bye  to  the  Sisters,  and  I  did  hope  to  see  another 
one  who  is  dear  to  me — but  it  may  be  better  that  I  do  not." 

Laoni's  face  looked  graver. 

"Is  it  him— El  Bravo?" 

"Oh!     You  remember." 

|"Yaas;  yer  talked  'bout  him  so  purty  befo'  he  come  over." 
"I  will  speak  well  of  him  still.  If  I  loved  him,  it  was  not  on 
condition  that  lie  should  think  well  of  me.  I  loved  him  for  his 
beauty,  for  his  bravery,  for  the  noble  words  that  flowed  from  his 
lips  and  sounded  more  musical  than  the  leaping,  laughing  waters  of 
our  village  fall." 

"Has  yer  seen  him?" 

"Once;  for  some  minutes." 

"And  ben  here  so  long?" 

"But  so  busy." 

"'Scusin'  of  him?" 

"But  it  is  ;i  fact/' 

"I'll  see  him." 

"Not  a  word,  Nathan — or  I  will  answer  you  now  about  the  trip 
to  Texas." 


506  GrUY  BAYMOND. 

"An'  say?" 

"No." 

"Then  I'm  dumb." 

The  two  had  been  walking  during  this  dialogue,  anclr  having 
arrived  opposite  the  house  of  the  Little  Sisters,  Laoni  bid  her  friend 
good-bye,  for  the  present,  and  entered  the  place. 


Nathan's  destination  was  the  lodgings  of  his  friend  and  benefactor 
to  whom  he  had  alluded  as  having  been  so  liberal.  As  his  call  was 
>by  appointment^  Guy  was  expecting  him,  and  while  waiting  for 
Nathan's  appearance  had  been  discussing  with  Manuel  Euiz  and 
Linda  the  future  movements  of  the  party.  Guy's  heart  was  heavy 
from  the  result  of  his  meeting  with  Beatrice,  but  it  made  him  all 
the  more  assiduous  in  the  duties  which  applied  to  his  business  affairs, 
as  increased  activity  in  any  direction  would  tend  to  lessen  the  heavy 
weight  of  disappointment  which  his  sweetheart's  reception  had  created, 
and  which  her  subsequent  communication  intensified. 

He  had  been  urging  the  bridal  couple  to  accompany  him  to  New 
York,  where  his  purpose  was  to  inaugurate  an  emigration  movement 
to  the  young  nation  whose  star  of  existence  had  just  risen  above  the 
horizon  of  revolution.  Manuel  hinted  that  his  friend  should  make 
the  trip  his  own  bridal  tour,  in  which  event  he  would  not  suffer  from 
the  selfishness  of  his  and  Linda's  cooing.  But  Guy,  without  divulging 
his  trouble,  gave  him  to  understand  that  obstacles,  more  or  I 
serious,  prevented  such  a  consummation. 

"We  called  twice,  but  failed  to  see  her,"  said  Manuel,  alluding 
to  Beatrice. 

Guy  avoided  the  subject,  and  was  relieved  by  the  announcem 
that  Nathan  was  below. 

He  remained  for  quite  a  time  in  conference  with  his  caller, 
before  finally  dismissing  him,  walked  by  his  side  for  a  short  distance 
on  the  banquette.     Nathan  seemed  to  be  very  grateful,  for  he  said : 

"I'm  more'n  thankful  fur  this.     I  never  calkerlated  on  so  much." 

"You  have  paid  me  in  services;  it  is  your  due,"  said  G 
earnestly. 

"An'  Mr.  Hamilton — is  yer  settled  with  him?" 

"No ;  he  left  last  night  for  his  home  in  Mississippi,  having  recei 
a  hasty  summons.  I  will  take  care  of  his  interests  though,  and  no 
him  by  letter." 

"Oh !     I  knowed  yer  would.     I  was  jes'  thinkin'  what  a  pile  he 


3h." 

I 


GUY  RAYMOND.  507 

must  'a'  got,  seem'  how  fine  yer  done  with  me.     Perry's  gone,  too." 

"I  have  half  way  adopted  Perry.  He  was  such  a  favorite  of  Mr. 
Trigg.  I  sent  him  to  Texas  on  business/*' 

"All  a-goin,"  said  Nathan,  with  a  sigh. 

"And  you,  Nathan — will  you  leave '  shortly  ?" 

"Shortly?  I'll  make  a  straight  streak  from  here  tomorrer;  and 
who  do  yer  think  is  goin'  with  me?" 

"I  am  at  a  loss  to  answer." 

"Somebody  that  thinks  a  powerful  sight  of  you." 

"Of  me?" 

"Yaas,"  said  Nathan,  with  a  grin,  and  watching  Guy's  face. 

"It  cannot  be  Beatrice,"  thought  Guy,  rather  worried.  "I  will 
have  to  give  up,"  he  said,  finally. 

"Why,  Laoni." 

"Laoni!"  exclaimed  Guy,  stopping  short.  "Has  she  not  joined 
the  Sisters  of  Charity?" 

"Yaas,"  replied  the  other,  "but  the  bishop  put  her  out  'cause  why 
she  couldn't  swaller  their  mirrowcles — an' — lemme  see — an'  didn't 
have  no  faith — that's  what  she  sed." 

"Faithful  to  her  first  impressions,"  thought  Guy.  "My  first  les- 
sons are  bearing  fruit  that  may  make  her  lot  a  hard  one." 

"She. is  going  with  you — where?"  he  asked  of  Nathan. 

"To  Arkinsaw;  then,  after  a  day  or  so,  to  Texis." 

"Well,  Nathan,  I  can  trust  you,"  said  Guy,  pulling  out  his  pocket- 
book.  "Here  is  a  check  on  the  bank,  intended  for  Laoni.  Draw  the 
money  and  use  it  for  her  benefit  as  long  as  she  is  with  you.  Should 
you  part,  then  give  to  her  what  remains  unspent.  Guard  her  as  the 
apple  of  your  eye  and  never  leave  her  until  she  is  with  friends. 
Whatever  of  expense  you  may  suffer,  or  trouble  you  may  experience 
in  her  cause,  I  will  repay  and  reward  you  for.  To  her  I  owe  my  life." 

Guy  paused,  then  said  aside: 

"To  her  I  owe  the  loss  of — Beatrice." 

"Mister  Raymond,  yer  kin  trust  Nathan  Roach.  He  ain't  skeered 
of  a  Injun  or  a  white,  that  walks  the  yearth.  I'd  give  a  purty  ef 
Laoni  thort  as  much  of  me  as  she  does  of  El  Bravo — as  she  calls 
yer." 

Guy  started — at  the  old  name.  It  brought  up  so  many  thoughts 
connected  with  that  brave,  true  child  of  nature — faultless  and  loving 
Laoni. 

Giving  the  backwoodsman  some  instructions  about  the  check  and 
the  amount,  Guy  bade  him  good-bye  and  turned  back  to  his  lodgings, 
sadder  than  when  he  left  them. 


508  GUY  EAYMOND. 

CHAPTEE  LXIX. 


Reader,  if  it  has  been  your  fortune  to  breathe  the  atmosphere  of 
the  isothermal  belt  which  traverses  the  rolling  uplands  of  Texas  and 
winds  in  and  out  the  lesser  "ranges  of  the  mountains,  during  that 
enchanting  period  that  intervenes  between  the  first  chilling  winds 
of  the  ides  of  October  and  the  more  defined  norther  which  ushers  in 
the  last  month  of  the  year,,  you  doubtless  will  recall  the  balmy  air, 
laden  with  a  bracing  odor,  that  mingles  its  viewless  fragrance  with 
the  waves  of  heat  ascending  from  the  cooling  earth.  The  smoky 
line,  bounding  the  view,  lends  density  to  the  shadows,  which  a  low 
descending  sun  causes  wood  or  mountain  to  form  along  its  eastern 
base.  There  is  barely  a  touch  of  autumn  in  this  southern  picture. 
Verdure  still  lingers  with  scarce  a  paling  leaf  to  indicate  the  season. 
Yet  he  to  the  manor  born,  though  waking  from  a  Rip  Van  Winkle 
slumber,  would  take  in  the  familiar  view  as  the  product  of  a  Texas 
Indian  summer. 

It  was  such  an  afternoon  as  this,  about  ten  months  succeeding 
the  incidents  related  in  the  preceding  chapter,  when  the  blue  hills 
and  the  head  waters  of  the  San  Saba  overlooked  a  more  than  ever 
charming  view  of  tableland  and  prairie,  with  mottes  of  timber  nestling 
in  a  bed  of  mist  to  the  westward,  while  in  the  east  they  here  and 
there  stood  inverted  by  the  mirage.  The  valley  of  the  village  where 
Walumpta  ruled  was  just  the  same,  except  a  noticeable  change  in 
the  reconstruction  of  the  huts  and  dwellings  which  succeeded  their 
destruction  by  the  Rangers  at  the  time  they  raided  the  Indians5  nest 
and  captured  Laoni.  The  grand  mountain  stood  sentry,  still  as 
familiar  to  the  view  as  when  Guy  Raymond  looked  back  to  catch 
the  last  parting  signals  from  the  faithful  girl. 

On  the  eastern  hills  which  girded  the  valley  the  zig-zag  path 
crossed  to  the  outer  plain,  still  impeded  by  rock  or  tree  trunk.  Here, 
on  this  afternoon,  near  the  very  spot  where  Guy  and  Pedro  replaced 
the  fallen  deer  upon  the  latter's  pony,  the  self-same  Pedro  and  Chicha. 
his  spouse,  were  in  conversation.  The  former  was  squatting  prone 
upon  the  ground,  rolling  a  cigareta,  while  the  squaw  lay  full  length, 
with  her  head  resting  upon  a  hand  supported  by  her  elbow.  Between 
them  was  a  pile  of  meat,  whose  character  was  indicated  by  a  fresh 
buffalo  calf  skin  that  was  all  of  a  heap  near  Chicha's  feet. 

"You  are  a  lazy  squaw,  Chicha.  This  is  the  third  time  you  have 
rested  in  a  mile,  and  that,  skin  does  not  weigh  a  quarter  as  much  as 
these  cuts  of  meat/'  said  Pedro,  between  the  puffs  from  his  freshly 
lighted  cigareta. 


GUY  EAYMOND.  509 

"But  you  are  stronger,  and  don't  tire  so  quick,"  remonstrated 
Chicha. 

"Strange  talk,  for  a  squaw !"  replied  her  lord.  "I  have  spoiled 
you,  Chicha.  If  I  had  been  a  pure  Indian  you  would  be  my  drudge 
and  would  have  both  skin  and  meat  to  pack.  Your  braves  don't  work. 
My  Mexican  raising  has  left  a  soft  spot  for  women,  and  therefore 
you  are  rotten  spoiled." 

"But  you  are  always  mad  if  your  tortillas  are  not  hot,  and  an 
Indian  would  not  care,"  retorted  Chicha. 

"Very  well.  I'll  take  cold  tortillas,  then,  without  a  grumble, 
but  you  must  pack  brushwood  and  water  and  carry  this  meat.  From 
now  on  I'm  an  Indian  husband." 

"I'll  tell  Laoni  of  this,"  she  replied,  "and  she  will  not  brag  on 
you  so  much." 

"Laoni!  She  is  no  longer  Indian  nor  anything  but  American. 
Even  Wahimpta  is  almost  heartbroken  at  the  change.  And  then  she 
has  no  talk  any  more  for  El  Bravo,  but  shakes  her  head  and  casts 
down  her  eyes,  as  if  for  shame  that  she  has  forgotten  him,  when 
one  speaks  his  name." 

"That'?  where  you  are  a  fool.  To  have  few  words  shows  that 
she  has  a  heart  for  him,  and  her  eyes  go  down  in  sorrow  that  he  is 
away." 

"A  woman  is  so  wise — in  her  own  mind.  Can't  you  see  she  loves 
that  ugly  fellow  who  came  back  with  her?  He  went  yesterday  out 
on  some  sort  of  a  scout,  and  she  is  now  at  the  foot  of  the  hills 
watching  for  his  return.  She  must  love  him — but  truly,  not  for  his 
beauty." 

"Maybe  it's  the  scout  he's  on  that  makes  her  watch,  to  hear  his 
report."  suggested  Chicha. 

"Your  wisdom  will  kill  you  yet,  if  laziness  don't  get  ahead  of  it. 
Come;  shoulder  the  hide.  The  sun  is  nearly  gone." 

"And  the  meat — must  I  pack  it,  too?" 

"No ;  but  remember  my  tortillas — they  must  be  hot.  Wait,  Chicha, 
here  comes  Laoni.  Let  her  pass — but  not  a  word  to  her  about  the 
water  and  brushwood." 

Laoni  was  really  at  hand.  She  approached  mounted  upon  a 
spirited  pony,  with  side-saddle  and  ornamented  bridle,  which  looked 
n'mnrkiiblv  un-lndian.  Her  dress  was  a  mixture.  The  corsage  and 
<kirt  wen-  AriM-ricnn,  the  latter  short,  however,  revealing  the  fine 
of  her  inocnssiii,  while  her  dainty  Indian  cap  surmounted 
hliick  tresses  which  fell  in  a  plait  down  her  back.  Her  face 
wore  an  anxious,  thoughtful  expression,  while  she  turned  more  than 


510  GUY  RAYMOND. 


once  to  glance  across  the  country  or  to  address  a  word  to  an  Indian 
youth  who,,  also  mounted,  followed  in  the  rear.  Pedro  greeted  her. 

"What,  Pedro!  Overloaded?  You  and  Chicha  both  look  tired. 
Wallah  will  take  the  hide  from  Chicha,  and  then  the  meat  divided 
will  he  light  for  each." 

Wallah,  the  Indian  youth,  reached  for  the  hide  with  just  an 
audible  grunt  that  might  have  meant  a  deal  interpreted,  while  Chicha 
indexed  her  satisfaction  in  her  features. 

"I  know  Pedro  is  good,  and  will  not  overburden  you,"  Laoni  con- 
tinued, addressing  the  squaw.  Then  turning  to  Pedro,  she  said : 

"Hasten  to  the  village,  good  Pedro.  I  have  something  for  you 
to  do,  and  the  sun  is  now  behind  the  western  hills." 

"Did  you  see  him  coming?"  asked  Pedro. 

"Nathan?  No;  he  had  to  cross  the  mountains,  and  will  come  by 
the  canon.  He  sent  Wallah  here  to  say  as  much." 

Pedro's  look  indicated  that  he  was  puzzled  as  Laoni  left  them  at 
a  sharp  canter.  He  knew  that  something  was  troubling  the  daughter 
of  the  chief,  and  that  the  ungainly  Nathan  had  been  dispatched  on 
some  mission.  Something  must  have  happened  while  he  was  on  the 
hunt,  and  he  was  keen  to  meet  his  appointment  with  Laoni  to  satisfy 
his  curiosity.  He  questioned  Wallah,  but  he  would  not  admit  that 
he  knew  more  than  what  had  just  been  revealed.  He  had  ridden 
^with  Nathan  blindly  and  had  returned  with  the  news  of  his  having 
crossed  the  mountains  and  by  what  way  he  would  return. 


In  order  to  explain  Laoni's  an*xiety  and  the  character  of  the 
mission  on  which  she  had  dispatched  Nathan  Roach,  it  will  be  nec- 
essary to  revert  to  the  incidents  of  the  day  before  and  to  indulge 
in  a  glimpse  of  retrospection. 

The  visit  to  Arkansas  had  been  performed  and  Nathan,  true  to 
his  program,  remained  a  very  short  time  in  his  backwoods  home. 
In  company  with  Laoni  he  made  his  way  to  Alexandria  where, 
through  the  munificence  of  Guy  Raymond,  he  was  enabled  to  procure 
a  complete  outfit  of  light  wagon  and  team,  two  saddle  horses  and 
supplies  for  their  subsistence.  Laoni  added  some  substantial  pres- 
ents for  her  father  and  some  of  his  friends,  besides  many  trinkets 
calculated  to  please  the  squaws  of  the  village.  Thus  equipped  they 
set  out  for  their  destination,  where  they  arrived  after  many  days, 
which  were  not  devoid  of  the  perils  incident  to  travel  through  a 
wild  territory.  Nathan  was  in  his  element  howevet,  and  Laoni  had 


GUY  KAY.MONP.  511 

not  lost  her  Indian  constitution  amid  •  the  seductive  elements  of 
white  civilization.  They  therefore  enjoyed  a  trip  through  haunts 
where  nature  ruled  unrestrained  by  human  artifice,,  and  when 
the  village  was  reached,  regret  was  only  on  the  side  of  Nathan,,  who 
thought  he  would  like  it  to  last  forever.  Walumpta  was  overjoyed 
lo  see  his  child  alive  and  well,  but  was  jealous  of  an  obvious  change 
in  manner,,  heightened  by  the  metamorphosis  in  her  costume.  The 
oll'ect  of  the  presents  which  she  brought  somewhat  counteracted  this 
feeling  in  the  chief  and  certain  Indians,  while  the  trinkets  for  the 
squaws  gave  them  a  day  of  unalloyed  happiness.  Nathan  was  de- 
picted as  a  white  brave  commissioned  by  El  Bravo  to  protect  and 
escort  her  to  her  friends,  and  to  be  indefinitely  subject  to  her  com- 
mands. The  first  part  of  Guy's  injunction  was  generally  commended, 
l)ii t  the  Indians  considered  Nathan's  mission  ended  with  her  safe 
return.  The  months  which  followed  gave  to  the  one  a  perpetual 
round  of  the  pleasures  of  frontier  life,  while  Laoni,  not  free  from 
brooding  over  the  past,  and  apprehensive  for  hor  future,  employed 
her  time  in  studying  the  interests  of  her  tribe  and  trying  to  impress 
her  father  with  the  importance  of  those  economies  calculated  to 
secure  a  more  general  prosperity  to  his  people.  Nathan's  simple 
nature  was  easily  satisfied  with  his  surroundings,  and  but  one  thing 
troubled  him. 

He  loved  Laoni. 

She  had  given  him  kindness — friendship — but  there  had  never 
been  a  look  of  love. 

He  had  never  broached  his  passion  save  by  simple  acts  and  a 
devotion  which  she  fully  prized. 

The  day  she  sent  him  on  a  mission  his  reserve  broke  down,  and 
Nathan  departed  a  confessed  lover. 

That  day  Laoni  was  in  her  lodge,  resting  from  an  early  ramble- 
on  the  mountain,  when  Wallah,  an  Indian  youth  faithful  to  her 
in  I  < -rests,  tipped  softly  into  her  presence. 

She  looked  up  with  a  question  on  her  features. 

"There  is  trouble  in  the  village,"  he  said,  softly. 
"rouble?"  repeated  Laoni.     "Explain." 

scout  came  in  when  the  morning  broke  and  brought  a  Ml  or, 
which  he  kept  hid.  but  which  I  chanced  to  see.  I  heard  your  name, 
then  several  of  the  leaders  led  him  to  the  council  room.-  I  followed, 
and  on^ping  through  the  opening  just  behind  the  screen,  1  listonod 
in  tln-ir  words.  The  braves  were  troubled.  It  seems  the  scout  was 
out  two  days  from  Bexar  and  came  upon  a  camp  of  white  men,  which 
ho  boldly  entered.  He  was  surprised  to  find  one  who  could  speak 


512  GUY  KAYMOXD. 

the  words  of  our  tribe,  and  found  him  to  be  El  Bravo,  whose  life 
you  saved.  All  went  well  and  El  Bravo  gave  him  presents,  and  feasted 
him  and  gave  him  a  letter  to  fetch  to  you." 

"El  Bravo  sent,  me  a  letter !" 

"Hold ;  a  word  more.  The  scout  promised  to  put  it  in  your  hands, 
but  that  night,  when  he  was  prepared  to  leave,  two  Mexicans — 
teamsters,  for  there  are  some  wagons — while  talking  by  their  camp 
fire,  spoke  of  this  valley  and  the  mine,  and  ho  found  that  here 
they  are  coming1  with  tools  to  go  upon  our  mountain  and  work  the 
mine — that  I,  a  Lipan,  am  forbid  to  see.  The  scout,  alarmed,  slipped 
from  their  camp  and  hastened  here,  and  now  they  have  your  letter 
and  the  news,  which  means  death  to  the  coming  white  men." 

"Who  has  my  letter?"  exclaimed  Laoni,  rising. 

"Be  quiet,  Laoni ;  it  will  be  worse  if  they  know  you  have  the 
secret.  For  then  a  warning  to  the  strangers  may  go  too  late." 

"Wise  Wallah!  Your  words  are  true.  Oh!  If  I  could  see  his 
letter — El  Bravo's  letter — to  Laoni.  He  coming!  Shall  I  warn 
him?  If  I  do  he  will  turn  back — and  I  not  see  him.  If  I  do  not 
warn  him — Oh!  Then — there  will  be  a  battle — and  he  may  be  killed 
— dead  to  Laoni — but  also  dead — to  her.  If  he  could  be  taken  pris- 
oner and  brought  here — I  could  save  him.  But  would  he  stay — stay 
here  with  Laoni — away  from  her?  Oh — that  I  had  a  friend  to 
advise  me!  Wallah!  ' Where  is  Nathan?" 

"Just  back  from  a  hunt.  He  has  killed  enough  game  for  the 
whole  village." 

"Tell  him  Laoni  wants  him;  be  quick,  Wallah;  tell  him  to  come  at 
once.' 

"A  message  that  will  give  him  light  heels,"  Wallah  said  as 
hastened  out. 

"Poor,  simple  Nathan!"  mused  Laoni.     "He  loves  me,  and 
been  faithful  to  his  promise  to  El  Bravo;  but  the  same  cruel  fate 
which  builds  the  wall  between  El  Bravo  and  myself  has  raised 
barrier  that  parts  me  from  this  faithful  heart.     Here  he  comes." 

Nathan  entered  with  a  look  of  inquiry. 

"You  sent  for  me  ?"  he  said,  in  Lipan. 

"Speak  English,  Nathan;  what  we  say  the  walls  must  not  un< 
stand." 

"Well,  what  is  it?" 

Laoni  related  to  him  rapidly  the  intelligence  brought  by 
scout;  the  fact  that  the  council  had  it  under  consideration  ;  I  In-  danger 
such  an  expedition  must  incur,  when  the  sworn  policy  of  the  tribe 
was  to  suppress  the  knowledge  of  the  existence  of  the  mine;  the 


GUY   li.vYMoxi).  513 

certain  fate  which  must  await  fJuy  Raymond  in  1lie  event  of  his 
capture,  should  he  have  divulged  the  secret.  Everything  was  dis- 
cussed until  Nathan  was  fully  posted  on  the  situation. 

He  stood  mutely  pondering  its  gravity. 

"Have  you  no  words  for  me?"  she  aske.d. 

"A  few,"  he  replied. 

"Well?" 

"Turn  'em  back,  ef  they'll  go ;  or  ef  not,  warn  'em  of  the  risk, 
and  ef  they  come  anyhow,  let  it  be  with  permission  or  a  fight." 

"Will  you  go  to  him,  Nathan  ?" 

"I'll  go  to  the  crowd." 

"To  these  men  ?" 

"Yaas." 

"Now?" 

"Eight  off." 

"flow  will  T  over  repa}'  you,  dear,  good  Nathan?" 

"Pay  me?" 

"Reward  you  for  your  kindness." 

"Laoni,  I  promised  to  |.ertect  yer,  and  outside  er  that,  I'd  do  it 
anyhow,  fur  you  have  put  a  spell  on  me  that  I  can't  break.  The  only 
pay  that  would  hit  the  mark  is  to  tell  me  that,  when  I  git  worthy, 
yer  will  give  me  verself  ;ind  let  me  perfect  yer  till  death.  I'd  have 
a  better  right  thru  to  ken-  fur  yer." 

"It  would   he   poor  pay,  Nathan." 

"Why,  if  it  suits  me?  Yer  love  (hiy  Raymond;  what  good  will 
it  do  yer  when  he  marries  that  gal  in  San  Antpne?" 

"Nathan,  dear  Nathan;  save  him  for  my  sake.  I  do  love  him, 
but  if  he  marries — Nathan — then — if  you  still  love  this  poor  girl, 
and  have  still  a  wish  to  make  me  your  wife  I  will  not  say  no. 
Laoni  should  not  live  in  vain,  and  will  not  if  by  her  sacrifice  she 
makes  one  heart  happy." 

"Dear  Laoni !"  exclaimed  Nalhau,  advancing  a  step. 

"Let  us  he  moving,"  she  said,  raising  her  hand  deprecatingly. 
"Go,  Nathan;  ride  mv  Eagle,  and  do  not  spare  him.  Find  these 
men  and  tell  them  of  their  danger.  Tell  El  Bravo  if  he  comes  to 
come  alone  and  no  harm  will  befall  him;  but.  to  come  in  force,  even 
with  no  intention  to  touch  the  mine,  will  now  be  dangerous.  Take 
Wallah  with  you,  for  you  may  have  need  of  a  messenger." 

"Yer  purity  good  on  a  plan,  Laoni,  but  when  it  comes  to  foolin 
injuns,  then  Nathan's  some  liis-elf.  Trust  me  with  the  warnin' 
of  "em.  hut  ef  tomorrow  night,  at  furthest,  a  crowd  goes  out,  it's 
to  Mi'-ej  these  fellers,  and  they'll  go  on  news  from  scouts,  fur  I'll 
lay  a  dozen  of  Vm  has  been  put  on  the  trail  of  \<}\  Bravo  and  his  layout. 


514  GUY  RAYMOND. 

Ef  Wallah  goes,,  who  will  yer  git  to  spy?" 

"There  is  Pedro." 

"Yaas,  Pedro,  but  he's  stupid." 

"But  willing." 

"Well,  I'm  off.  Good-bye,  my  gal,"  and  Nathan's  leave  taking 
would  have  been  more  affectionate,  but  Laonr's  hand  went  up  again, 
and  he  satisfied  himself  by  throwing  his  sentiment  into  a  lingeri 
glance  as  he  backed  out  of  her  presence. 

It  was  late  when  Pedro  presented  himself  at  Laoni's  lodge  to  keep 
his  appointment,  made  that  afternoon  while  she  was  returning  from 
a  survey  of  the  prairie  in  the  hope  of  catching  a  glimpse  of  Nathan 
returning  from  his  mission. 

Pedro  had  been  her  first  medium  through  whom  she  had  com- 
municated, with  Guy  when  he  came  a  prisoner  to  the  village,  and 
this  fact  formed  a  major  portion  of  the  sentiment  which  made  him 
a  favorite.  Her  preference  won  his  fidelity  to  her  interests.  She, 
therefore,  had  no  difficulty  in  enlisting  him  in  any  service. 

"Why  did  you  not  come  earlier?"  inquired  Lnoni. 

"For  good  reasons/'  replied  Pedro. 

"Let  me  hear  them,  good  Pedro." 

"Your  lodge  was  watched,,  and  T  waited  until  the  young  moon 
went  down." 

"My  lodge  watched?" 

"A  report  is  in  the  village  that  you  are  sending  news  to  the  white 
men,  and  that  a  letter  is  here  from  them  to  you.  The  council  has 
been  together  all  day,  and  they  would  give  a  hundred  buffalo  skins 
to  know  what  the  writing  means." 

"If  they  will  bring  it  to  me  I  will  tell  them  every  word, 
letter  is  from  El  Bravo." 

"El  Bravo?" 

"El  Bravo." 

"But  there  are  others  with  him;  and.  Laoni,  they  say  he  has  told 
them  the  secret  of  the  mountain." 

"Go,  Pedro,  and  learn  if  the  council  is  still  together.  Spy  into 
what  they  say  and  do  and  when  you  are  satisfied  on  what  they  have 
decided,  come  at  once  and  tell  me.  They  will  not  suspect  that  your 
stupid  look  hides  a  world  of  cunning." 

Pedro  leisurely  left  the  lodge. 

"His  movements  would  not  surely  cause  one  to  think  well  of 
cunning,"  said  Laoni,  turning  from  a  lingering  look  at  the  recedi 
form  of  the  Mexican. 

"Watching  me!"  she  continued.  "Watching  the  daughter  of 
Walumpta!  This  secret  of  the  mine  has  come  to  be  a  deep-sea 


- 


a 

of 

"rf 


Grui   if  \ ,  \.'<>\i>.  515 

superstition,  when  it  might  be  used  to  benefit  the  tribe.     Here  comes 
Wallah.     Perhaps  he  has  news  for  me." 

The  young  Indian  made  his  entrance  in  a  quick,  nervous  manner. 
"You  have  news,  Wallah?" 
"News,  and  strange  news." 
"Strange?" 

"The  council  is  closed,  and  a  message  is  to  be  sent  to  El  Bravo 
and  his  friends  to  come  to  this  village  and  be  the  guests  of  the  Lipans." 
"Is  there  no  treachery  behind  this  strange  invitation,  when  it  is 
believed  that  they  come  to  work  the  mine?" 

"That  is  with  the   council,"   replied   Wallah.     "The  braves   are 
not  called  together,  and  only  four  spies  have  left  the  village," 
"And  El  Bravo's  letter  to  Laoni?" 
allah  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
nd  why  watch  this  lodge?" 
allah  looked  surprised. 

edro  said  it,"  asserted  Laoni,  in  reply  to  his  look. 
!o  see  who  belongs  to  your  council,"  suggested  Wallah,  with  a 
half  humorous  grunt. 

Laoni  walked  excitedly  to  and  fro  for  a  moment,  then  said: 
"Go,  Wallah !     Tell  Walumpta,  my  father,  to  come  to  Laoni.     If 
El  Bravo  is  in  danger  I  will  know  it,  and  I  will  know  if  the  daughter 
of  the  chief  cannot  be  trusted  to  receive  a  letter  from  one  who  is 
dearer  to  her  than  life." 


CHAPTEE  LXX. 

ic  rugged  sides  of  a  canon  overhung  a  spring,  which  bubbled 
from  beneath  a  boulder,  and  sent  a  current  of  limpid  water  through 
torturous  turns  until  it  expanded  into  a  pebbled  basin,  then  dis- 
tributed itself  into  the  shining  quicksands,  some  yards  further  on, 
at  the  mouth  of  the  gorge.  Here  a  flood  of  golden  sunbeams  came 
across  the  unbroken  prairie  lighting  the  hillsides,  in  contrast  with 
the  deep  shadows  cast,  by  the  western  acclivity  around  the  precincts 
of  the  spring  and  toning  down  the  snow-white  canvas  that  sur- 
mounted the  wagons  of  some  campers,  whose  animals  were  drink- 
ing at  the  basin  or  browsing,  near  at  hand.  There  must  have  been 
a  dozen  or  more  of  individuals  belonging  to  the  party  which  had 
selected  the  well  known  place  as  a  proper  camp  in  which  to  rest 
after  the  fatigue  incident  to  an  all  day  travel  over  a  country  whose 
roads  were  no  more  than  horse  trails.  The  faces  of  the  groups 
were  decidedly  American,  save  two  or  three  whose  owners  were  busy 


516  GUY  RAYMOND. 

attending  to  the  teams,   and  who  spoke  the  musical  words  o 
Mexican  dialect.     A  group  near  the  spring  was'  composed  of  seve 
who,  appearing  to  have  no  special  duties  to  perform,  were  conversi 
on  some  subject  that  elicited  occasional  sounds  of  merriment.     On 
of  these,  a  large,  fine  looking  fellow,  with  wavy  locks  and  rather 
flashy  dress  for  the  frontier,  sat  upon  a  camp  stool  and  held  in  his 
hand  a  flask  of  liquor,  while  he  was  entertaining  his  auditors  with 
the  rehearsal  of  something  which  occasioned  the  laughter. 

"But  Hamilton,"  remarked  another  of  the  party;  "you  mu 
acknowledge  that  Nathan  is  a  rough  diamond." 

"I'll  grant  it,  Guy,"  replied  Hamilton.  "A  rough  diamond  of 
the  purest  water,  and  I'd  like  to  see  the  fellow  very  much." 

"I  think  he's  in  the  Indian  country,  and  you  may  be  gratified,"  re- 
plied Guy. 

"Do  you  know  that  I  thought  he  was  in  love  with  that  remarkable 
Indian  girl  of  yours.  He  could  talk  of  no  one  else,  at  times,  while 
we  were  in  Orleans.  We  have  been  running  on  so  much  that 
we  have  forgotten  our  whiskey.  There,  Guy,  take  some,  just  to 
counteract  the  effects  of  a  change  of  water,  you  know." 

"Just  a  little,  Hamilton,  as  a  stimulant;  but  I  do  not  believe  that 
Laoni  could  ever  care  for  Nathan  more  than  she  could  for  a  faith- 
ful friend,"  said  Guy,  Hamilton's  digression  not  removing  the  effect 
of  the  allusion  to  the  backwoodsman's  love. 

"You  think  she  is  too  much  absorbed  in  her  hero,"  said  Hamilton, 
laughing. 

"No,"  said  Guy,  slightly  coloring;  "but  Laoni  is  a  remarkab 
girl,  as  you  said,  and  is  far  above  the  average  woman  of  civilizatio 
Nathan  could  hardly  fill  the  void  in  such  a  woman's  heart." 

"You  are  in  love  with  this  paragon,  I  do  believe.  You  will  ha 
a  chance  to  pay  homage  to  her  virtues  in  a  short  time." 

"I  do  believe  there  comes  Ruiz!     He  said  he  would  join  us  h 
Yes;  it  is  he,"  said  Guy,  waving  his  hat  at  an  approaching  party 
of  two  horsemen. 

A  return  salute  confirmed  him  in  his  opinion. 

A  few  minutes  more  and  Manuel  Ruiz  dismounted  near  the 
and  threw  his  reins  to  his  mozo. 

"Welcome,  amigo  mio." 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Manuel." 

"Any  news?" 

"I've  brought  some  mail  for  you  fellows  and  it  is  in  my  sadd 
bags;  and  news,  yes,  news  you  would  never  guess." 

"Anybody  married  ?" 

"Anybody  dead?" 


GUY  RAYMOND.  517 

"Old  Santy  fixing  up  an  invasion?"  asked  Txarnes,  who  had  come 
up  in  time  to  greet  Manuel. 

"One  guessed.  fSome  one  is  dead.  But  don't  begin  to  look  sorry, 
for  none  here  will  regret  it." 

"Who  can  it  be  ?"  asked  one. 

"And  we  won't  regret  it?"  from  another. 

"You  have  not  heard  from  Ducio?"  said  Hamilton. 

"Ducio  is  the  man.     He  is  as  dead  as  Hector." 

"How?" 

"Where?" 
When  ?" 

"Be  patient  and  I'll  tell.  Bonito,  my  wife's  eccentric  father, 
always  believed  that  Ducio  robbed  him  of  some  of  that  gold  in  the 
vault,  and  from  the  manner  of  his  death  I  am  convinced  the  old 
fellow  was  correct.  You  know  the  quarters  at  the  carcel  have  not 
been  occupied  for  a  time,  and  any  bold  man  could  get  into  the  place. 
Well,  one  of  the  prisoners  in  your  old  cell,  Guy,  stated  that  he  had 
heard  a  noise  under  ground  for  two  days  like  some  one  picking  at 
the  foundations,  when  it  suddenly  slopped.  Father  Ignacio,  think- 
ing that  something  supernatural  had  happened  in  that  vault,  took 
a  notion  to  investigate  the  cause  of  the  noises  heard  by  the  prisoner. 
Well,  he  sent  for  me  and,  together,  we  made  the  exploration  and 
found  a  quantity  of  del) IMS  scattered  in  every  direction  over  the  vault 
floor,  and  one  very  large  stone  had  fallen,  together  with  a  portion 
of  the  arch,  crushing  the  body  of  a  man,  portions  of  which  shouvd 
from  under  the  mass.  On  clearing  away  the  stones  we  recognized 
the  body  as  that  of  Ducio.  He  thought  the  treasure  was  still 
secreted  there,  and  lost  his  life  in  searching  for  it." 

"Requiescat  in  pace,"  from  Hamilton. 

"Poor  devil !"  said  Guy. 

"D d  villain  !"  concluded  Manuel. 

"Let  us  have  the  letters,  Manuel ;  I  presume  there  is  one  or 
more  for  each  of  us.  I  am  dying  to  hear  from  Mississippi,"  said 
Hamilton. 

"Here  they  are,"  and  Manuel  produced  a  package  from  his  bags. 

"One  for  Hamilton,  three  for  Guy  and  one  for  Karnes.  And 
here,  Sir  Raymond,  is  one  handed  to  me  to  deliver  to  you.  The 
writing  is  no  doubt  familiar." 

As  Guy  took  the  last,  a  more  serious  expression  came  over,  his 
features,  and  with  no  more  than  a  glance,  he  transferred  it  to  his 
pocket. 

He  gave  his  attention  to  the  other  three,  while  Hamilton  and 
Karnes  broke  the  seals  of  their  communications.  Hamilton  ap- 


518  GUY  RAYMOND. 

peared  tickled  at  the  contents  of  his  letter,  and  once  or  twice  laughed 
outright. 

"What  amused  you  so  in  your  letter,  Hamilton?"  asked  Karne 
as  he  folded  his  own  and  put  it  away. 

"Something  that  Guy  will  be  interested  in,"  he  replied. 

"Well,  let  us  have  it.  I  am  about  through  with  my  reading,' 
replied  Guy. 

"How  about  the  one  in  your  pocket  ?"  queried  Manuel. 

"I'll  read  that  at  my  leisure/'  he  remarked,  developing  a  sligh 
appearance  of  annoyance. 

"Well,  Guy,  your  Aunt  Ida  has  went  and  gone  and  done  it/' 

"What  does  that  mean,  Hamilton?"  asked  Guy. 

"She  has  married  a  youth,  young  enough  to  be  her  third  son." 

"The  deuce!" 

"And  actually  looked  no  more  than  twenty  in  her  bridal  robes." 

"I  thought  she  would  go  off  in  that  way  some  day.  One  of  my 
three  letters  is  from  Perry.  The  boy  is  studying  hard,  and  I  am  con- 
fident that  the  money  I  will  spend  on  his  education  will  be  well 
invested." 

Another  of  Guy's  letters  was  from  Stella.  She  had  not  heard 
of  her  aunt's  marriage.  She  mentioned  the  receipt  of  a  letter  from 
Perry,  and  also  alluded  to  his  having  called  on  her  at  the*  Convent, 
while  passing  through  the  city  en  route  to  college.  Guy  thought 
he  discovered  between  the  lines  of  her  writing  a  sentimental  par- 
tiality for  Perry,  which  brought  a  smile  to  his  face. 

The  third  letter  was  from  Father  Ignacio,  a  friendly  epistle 
urging  him  to  take  care  of  himself  and  commending  him  to  the 
care  of  the  Virgin,  whose  medal  he  had  in  his  possession.  It  was 
the  medal  restored  to  him  by  Stella,  on  the  discovery  that  it  was  the 
one  which  Laoni  had  given  him. 

"And  the  fourth  letter?     The  one  in  his  pocket — unopened  an 
unread.     He  wandered  away  to  himself  and  had  time  to  glean  its 
contents  before  the  fading  twilight  merged  into  the  feebler  light  of 
the  young  moon. 

•ft  was  from  Beatrice. 

From  the  unhappy  day  when  she  had  dismissed  her  lover  in  anger, 
she  had  suffered.  Suffered  first  from  suspicion,  then  from  jealousy, 
and  at  last  from  doubt  as  to  what  to  attribute  Guy's  unyielding 
displeasure.  Since  the  supposed  dispatch  of  her  note,  written  in  a 
spirit  of  contrition  and  appealing  for  a  reconciliation,  she  concluded 
that  no  reparation  on  her  part  could  appease  the  displeasure  which 
her  hasty  judgment  had  aroused.  So  the  time  wore  on,  and  the 
bea.utiful  face  grew  pallid  and  serious,  while  she  became  a  recluse  to 


: 
' 


LU      VJT  U. 

eeiW 

«n 


GUY  "RAYMOND.  519 

the  world.  She  learned  of  Guv'*  ivtnrn  from  the  Slates,  and  then 
that  he  had_ departed  on  an  expedition  to  the  Indian  country.  The 
very  day  of  his  departure  she  was  overhauling  and  destroying  some 
of  the  letters  and  papers  in  her  escritoire,  when  she  came  across  the 
note  which  she  supposed  Guy  had  ror-eived  from  her.  In  a  moment 
the  situation  became  plain  to  her.  Two  notes  had  been  written ; 
one  severe  and  uncompromising,  the  other  just  the  reverse.  The 
latter  was  still  in  her  possession,  therefore,  the  former  had  been  sent 
through  mistake.  She  could  not  account  for  the  substitution.  From 
Linda  she  learned  that  Manuel  would  follow  the  expedition  in  a  day 
or  two,  to  overtake  it  at  some  designated  point.  She  would  write 
to  Guy  in  explanation  and  enclose  him  the  note  he  should  have  re- 

Jin  New  Orleans, 
len  her  resolution  had  taken  definite  shape,  she  wrote  as  follows : 
v>h,  Guy !  I  have  discovered  why  I  have  not  looked  into  your 
dear  face  since  that  miserable  day  when  you  called  and  I  acted  so 
hastily.  I  wrote  you  a  note  under  the  influence  of  passion,  generated 
by  suspicion.  When  I  read  it  over,  I  laid  it  aside  and  wrote  the 
one  I  enclose  in  this.  Through  a  misfortune  which  I  shall  regret 
throughout  my  life,  I,  by  some  means,  sent  you  the  first  note,  be- 
lieving I  was  sending  the  second.  In  looking  over  some  old  letters 
in  my  escritoire  today,  I  discovered  the  second  note  (the  one  inclosed) 
and  in  a  moment  the  truth  burst  upon  me,  revealing  the  justice 
oi  your  course  all  this  time — under  the  impression  that  I  meant 
all  the  other  cruel  note  contained.  You  have  my  explanation.  Can 
you  forgive?  Can  you  forget?  Can  you  return  to  the  old  love, 
take  up  and  reunite  the  severed  thread  of  our  happiness,  forgetting 
in  a  more  perfect  union  the  rupture  which,  while  it  has  been  like 
a  thorn  in  my  heart,  must  have  been  painful  to  a  noble  nature  like 
yours?  Manuel  will  hand  you  this.  Your  answer  will  constitute 
my  earthly  happiness,,  or  be  my  living  death. 

Guy's  musings  over  the  contents  of  the  letter  were  interrupted 
by  quite  a  commotion  among  the  party  he  had  recently  quitted,  and, 
by  the  blaze  of  a  newly-lighted  fire,  he  descried  the  form  of  a 
stranger.  The  latter's  words,  however,  at  once  gave  him  away,  and 
Guy  hastened  to  greet  the  new  comer.  Nathan  had  discovered  their 
c.amp  and  the  more  difficult  part  of  his  mission  from  Laoni  had 
been  performed.  He  reserved  the  true  statement  of  his  errand  until 
he  could  detail  it  to  the  one  in  whom  she  was  interested.  Guy  an- 
ticipated trouble  if  the  Indians  imagined  that  they  were  bent  on  ex- 
ploring the  mine,  with  or  withoui  permission,  but  supposed  that 


Beatrice." 


520 


GUY  RAYMOND. 


his  and  Laoni's  joint  influence  would  deter  them  from  open  hostility 
if  the  expedition  could  be  shown  to  be  entirely  pacific. 

Nathan's  report,  however,  gave  a  serious  aspect  to  any  further 
progress,  or  even  a  failure  to  retrace  the  steps  already  taken.  The 
word  was  passed  at  once  to  the  men  to  look  to  their  arms  and  have 
them  ready  for  service.  A  council  of  war  wras  held,  and  by  Nathan's 
advice,  a  clump  of  timber  and  undergrowth  situated  an  hour's 
travel  further  on,  was  selected  as  a  spot  to  be  occupied  the  next 
morning,  where  to  await  developments  from  the  Lipans.  Nathan 
was  sure  they  would  not  be  along  before  the  next  day,  and  that  the 
party  would  have  ample  time  to  fix  themselves  snugly  in  their  con- 
cealed position.  He  and  Karnes  had  fought  Indians  until  to  be 
so  engaged  appeared  like  second  nature.  The  disposition  of  the  whole 
force  was,  therefore,  left  to  these  two  frontiersmen,  and  under  their 
direction,  an  early  hour  of  the  ensuing  morning  found  the  party 
concealed  in  the  motte  of  timber  selected,  the  undergrowth  completely 
hiding  men,  animals  and  wagons  from  exterior  eyes.  The  two  direc- 
tors then  left  to  scout  the  country  in  advance  in  order  to  detect 
any  approach  of  Indians.  To  this!  end  they  stopped  in  a  point  of 
timber  whch  extended  like  a  bold  promontory  into  a  boundless  sea 
of  prairie,  about  six  miles  from  the  position  of  the  main  body. 

Both  men  had  been  over  the  ground  before. 

"Golly !     This  here's  the  place,  Karnes." 

"You're  right,  Nathe,  and  it's  the  last," 

"That's  what;  but  Lordy !  couldn't  we  see  'em  ef  they  was  a 
comin'  ?  It's  a  ten  mile  stretch  to  them  ar  hills." 

"And  it  wouldn't  hurt,  Natho,  if  wo  were  a  bit  closer  to  them 
same  hills." 

"Yaas,  but  don't  yer  see,  Karnes,  when  they  gits  opposite  this 
motty  country  they  is  goin'  to  make  straight  fur  this  pint,  fur  they 
can't  see  no  more  like  they  could  where  there  ain't  no  mottes." 

"You  are  right  again,  but  we  could  fix  our  stand  two  miles  closer 
in  that  motte  yonder." 

"Yaas,  honey!  And  ef  yer'd  want  to  run?  The  Injun  no 
more'n  knee  high  wouldn't  want  a  spy  glass  to  see  yer.  Now,  in 
this  here  pint,  when  we  see  'em,  we  kin  take  plenty  time,  and  move 
slow  back  on  camp.  They're  bound  to  beat  down  through  here  to 
find  us,  and  not  knowin'  we're  up  to  snuff,  they'll  jess  drap  right 
on  to  the  end  of  our  rifles.  Tell  the  truth,  Karnes,  I  don't  like  to  open 
on  them  Lipans ;  blamed  ef  they  haven't  done  me  right." 

"Well,  if  they  won't  fight,  we  won't." 

"Thar  !     By  jingo  !"  exclaimed  Nathan. 


"What;  see  'em?" 


up  and 
tie  tack 


J.IK 
ton,,, 

little  d 


GUY  RAYMOND.  .v,M 

"Ef  I  know  a  Injun." 
"I  don't  see  a  sign." 

"Not  on.  the  hills,  man;  here,  not  two  miles — one — two — three — 
four — five — six." 

"N'nw  I  see;  they  are  coming." 

••>  \!  They  shore  don't  mean  fight;  us  two  could  wallop  that 
crowd/3 

"Let's  move  back.  Nathe.  We've  at  lea>t  two  miles  of  open  prairie 
to  cross  ahead  of  'em  and  we'd  better  he  going.  There  may  he  more 
than  six,  for  you  remember  they  used  to  divide  up  and  meet;  divide 
d  meet  as  they  went  in  the  Trinity  country." 
ou  don't  'spose  I  don't  recoleck.  They  (cached  me  them 
eks  when  I  got  this  here  arrer  mark  in  my  cheek.  1  was 
watchin'  in  front — watchin'  in  front — when  zip!  came  one  er  them 
a-  fernal  arrers  from  behint  and  .stuck  right  here.  Mebhe  1  didn't 
git  the  devil's  scalp  that  done  it." 

The  scout-  cleared  the  open  prairie  in  time  to  he  unobserved  and 
anew  position  for  observation. 

athe,  there  is  only    four   DOW/5  said    Karnes.   pointing  to  four 
ittle  dark  spots  that  would  not  have  been  noticed  by  an  unpracticed 
eye. 

Nathan  looked  steadily  for  a  moment  in  the  direction  indicated, 

deliberately : 
bur  nothin'K 

at  do  you  mean.  Nathe?'' 

hem's   four   more,   ole   fel'.     Them   six   what   we   seed'll   come 
out  of  that  pint  or  I  don't  know  Injun  w.ays.      Don't  yer  see;  tl' 
bent  on  meeting7  right  here;  they'd  be  fools  else." 

The  correctness  of  Nathan's  prediction  having  been  confirmed  by 
the  appearance  of  six  mounted  figures  on  the  edge  of  the  timber 
they  had  left  a  short  time  before,  the  two  friends  watched  them  with 
interest. 

"See,  Nathe.  the  rascals  are  looking  at  our  tracks." 
idn't  I  know  they'd  do  it!     Tell  me  'bout  Injuns!" 
hey  are  making  signals  to  the  four,''  remarked  Karnes. 
o  tell  'em  'bout  them  tracks,  I  reckon." 

at'll  they  think,  Nathe?" 
now  we're  scouts." 

V?" 

9  fresh,  conn' n'  and  goin'." 
hen  they'll  know — 
hat  we've  saw  'em." 
t's  move." 


522  GUY  RAYMOND. 

"I'm  with  yer." 

"How'll  them  new  fellows  take  it?" 

"Speck  some  er  their  hair'll  stand." 

"Hamilton's  all  grit." 

"And  Guy  Raymond  ?" 

"Oh;  that's  a  sure  thing.     He's  as  good  an  Indian  as  you, 
brave." 

"He  kin  shoot.  Recoleck  that  night  in  town  when  he  tumbled 
the  greaser  from  the  bridge  by  the  light  er  his  torch  ?" 

"Let's  spur  up,  Nathe;  we  must  get  to  our  folks  quick.  Even 
ten  Indians  must  be  prepared  for." 

In  the  camp  every  disposition  had  been  made  of  the  men,  wagons 
and  animals  according  to  Karnes'  suggestions,  under  the  direction 
of  Guy,  and  the  return  of  the  scouts  was  impatiently  awaited.  He 
found  good  use  for  the  picks  and  shovels  in  baring  the  ground 
several  feet  in  width  around  the  edge  of  the  motte  on  the  south  and 
eastern  f  aces,  completely  clearing  away  the  tall  grass  and  dry  .com- 
bustible debris.  Hamilton's  curiosity  was  excited  by  this  seemingly 
unnecessary  act  and  he  asked  Guy  if  he  intended  to  dig  a  ditch  and 
throw  up  fortifications.  Guy  put  some  of  the  men  to  work  cutting 
green  branches  to  interweave  with  the  more  scanty  growth  and  more 
thoroughly  concealed  their  position.  The  day  wore  on,  however,  until 
the  sun  had  sunk  low  enough  to  cast  the  shadow  of  the  motte  far  out 
into  the  opening  to  the  east,  and  still  no  Indians  had  appeared.  The 
discovery  of  the  tracks  of  the  scouts'  horses  must  have  decided  the 
Indians  to  a  more  prudential  advance.  Nathan  was  sure  they  had 
a  plot,  and  suspected  they  had  a  notion  that  the  motte  concealed  tl 
party,  for  its  occupation  was  Indian  tactics. 

"They  is  bent  on  takin'  night  fur  it,"  he  remarked. 

"Or  waiting  for  reinforcements,"  suggested  Guy. 

"Mebbe  so." 

Night  fell.  The  stars  came  out  one  by  one,  then  the  constel- 
lations flashed  and  sparkled  in  the  firmament.  The  camp  was  still 
and  tireless,  and  should  the  Indians  come,  they  would  have  heard 
no  sounds  to  indicate  the  presence  of  the  white  men,  unless  they  should 
venture  within  a  few  yards  of  the  motte  and  catch  the  sneezing  of 
a  horse  or  the  tones  of  low  conversation. 

Four  sentinels  were  placed  without  the  edge  of  the  timber,  well 
concealed,  in  a  recumbent  position,  in  order  to  detect  the  form  of  a 
crawling  enemy.  Nathan  volunteered  in  this  latter  service  for  the 
night,  as  he  insisted  that  a  greenhorn  would  never  detect  the  snnko- 
like  movements  of  a  Lipan  warrior.  Guy  and  Karnes  took  pl;x-<>s 
at  other  points,  determined  to  sit  the  night  out  in  watching  for  the 


GUY  RAYMOND.  523 

expectant  foe.  The  former  found  a  convenient  log  for  a  seat,  from 
which  he  could  survey  a  quarter  of  the  outside  approach  for  a  dis- 
tance that  embraced  quite  a  sweep,  as  his  eyes  became  accustomed 
to  the  uncertain  starlight.  By  his  side  lay  a  dog,  whose  head  he 
.occasionally  stroked,  half  mechanically,  half  caressingly,  as  he  peered 
out  into  the  darkness,  or  spoke  to  him  in  a  low  tone. 

"Would  you  know  her,  Eolla?  She  was  so  kind  to  you.  Do  you 
remember  how  she  would  pat  your  head  when  yon  would  put  MM 
ugly  paw.  on  each  of  her  shoulders?  I  was  a  long  time  away  from 
you,  Eolla,  but  with  all  Father  Ignacio's  good  treatment,  you  knew 
your  master  and  left  him  for  n#>.  Good  Eolla,  you  would  know 
Laoni,  too." 

Eolla  gave  a  low  whine,  then  suddenly  sniffing  the  air,  he  growled 
fiercely. 

"That  means  a  good  deal,"  said  Karnes,  coming  over  to  Guy. 
"Do  you  see  anything?" 

"Nothing."" 

A  shot  from   Nathan's   rifle  immediately   followed    Guy's  reply. 

The  report  of  the  piece  bringing  the  men  together  in  \\  huddle, 
Karnes  ordered  all  back  to  their  posts.  Nathan  glided  in  on  his 
belly  to  reload  and  report  what  he  had  seen. 

"A  head  bobbed  up  when  the  dog  growled,"  he  said,  "end  I  blazed 
away.  They  knows  we're  here;  they  smelt  us  out.  I  don't  know 
ei  I  got  the  imp  or  not;  it's  purty  dark  to  aim." 

A  whiz  of  arrows  and  the  crack  of  several  rifles  cut  short  Nathan's 
report  and  he  hastened  to  his  post. 

A  yell  as  if  from  fifty  throats  followed  the  discharge. 

"Waste  no  ammunition,  men.  Fire  only  when  you  see  something 
to  shoot,"  shouted  Guy. 

Another  discharge  of  rifles  was  answered  by  shots  from  the  pieces 
of  Karnes  and  Nathan,  who  aimed  at  the  places  where  they  beheld 
the  flashes  of  two  hostile  guns. 

Another  yell  and  all  was  quiet  during  the  next  half  hour. 

Out  upon  the  prairie  a  flame  suddenly  flashed  up,  then  another, 
and  another,  until  a  chain  of  fire  encompassed  two  sides  of  the  motte. 

"I  thought  it  would  come,"  said  Nathan. 

"The  cowards !"  said  Karnes. 

"Now,  Hamilton,  you  see  why  I  cut  the  grass  away,  and  made  a 
bare  streak  on  three  sides.  I  have  lived  with  the  Indians  and  know 
their  tricks." 

"I  see;  I  see,"  said  Hamilton.  "I'll  make  a  note  of  that  for 
my  literary  work." 


524:  GUY  EAYMOND. 

"You  will  have  plenty  notes  before  this  expedition  ends/'  said  Guy. 

"I  don't  know,  Sir  Guy.  It  looks  like  these  redskins  were  about 
to  put  a  stopper  on  all  my  future  acts,,  and  they  include  your  biog- 
raphy." 

"A  pity,  Sir  Tipton;  but  it  will  be  a  greater  pity  to  be  cheated 
out  of  your  forthcoming  'Jones  in  India.' '; 

"Poor  Jones;  I'd  almost  given  that  up.  You  missed  it  by  not 
knowing  the  living  man.  I'm  afraid  his  heirs  and  executors  and 
administrators  would  pounce  on  me  for  damages,  in  an  action  for 
libel  and  defamation,  if  I  should  write  half  he  told." 

The  roar  of  the  fire,  which  now  leaped  high  up,  licking  the  air 
with  forked  tongues,  came  down  upon  the  wings  of  the  wind,  which 
seemed  to  increase  in  velocity  before  the  heat  of  the  devouring 
element.  In  a  few  minutes  it  had  reached  the  motte.  The  majority 
of  the  men  were  placed  on  either  flank,  to  draw  down  upon  any  of 
the  enemy  who  might  have  approached  those  points  to  cut  off  the 
anticipated  fugitives  from  the  timber.  The  long  tongues  of  name 
reached  across  the  bare  space  and  singed  and  twisted  the  leaves  and 
twigs;  caused  the  animals  to  snort  and  tremble  with  fright;  then 
suddenly  they  failed  for  want  of  material,  a  nicker  here  and  there 
indicated  a  burning  tuft,  and  the  danger  was  over.  On  either  hand 
the  fire  swept  by,  and  during  the  remainder  of  the  night  a  bright 
line  told  of  its  progress  westward. 

The  failure  of  the  attempt  brought  a  yell  of  disappointment  from 
the  Indians.  Guy  longed  for  daylight,  feeling  confidnt  that  he  could 
negotiate  a  peace  treaty  with  the  enemy.  The  danger  of  another 
attack  was,  in  the  opinion  of  the  leaders,  over  for  the  night,  as  the 
cleanly  burned  ground  afforded  no  hiding  places  for  the  creeping  foe. 
So  all  but  two  watches  laid  down  to  rest. 

Guy  and  Rolla  remained  awake.  The  dog's  uneasiness  manifested 
that  he  pretty  well  comprehended  the  situation.  He  lay  at  the  feet 
of  his  master  with  ears  pricked  and  almost  motionless.  The  strong 
wind  had  abated  its  force  and  was  reduced  to  a  steady  breeze,  bear- 
ing the  fumes  of  the  burnt  prairie. 

Suddenly  the  dog  rose  to  his  feet,  and  with  nose  upturned,  rapidly 
sniffed  the  air;  then,  whining  as  if  for  joy,  he  placed  a  foot  upon 
Guy's  arm  and  licked  his  hand. 

"I  don't  quite  understand  you,  Rolla.    What  is  the  matter  now?" 

Rolla  put  up  his  other  paw;  took  a  sitting  posture  to  more 
squarely  look  into  his  master's  face,  whined  and  wagged  his  tail. 

"You  are  certainly  in  a  good  humor,  my  dog.  Has  the  enemy 
left?" 


GUY  RAYMOND.  525 

Roll  a  gave  a  law  bark,,  rose  and  frisked  about,  then,  sniffing  the 
air  again,  sprang  through  the  wall  of  undergrowth  and  disappeared. 

"Is  the  dog  crazy  ?"  muttered  Guy,  as  he  sprang  up,  as  if  to 
recall  him. 

For  once  Holla's  manifestations  mystified  his  master.  Before,  he 
had  scented  the  Indians  and  growled  his  displeasure;  this  time  the 
scent -of  something  had  made  him  decidedly  happy  and  he  appeared 
to  have  deserted  to  the  enemy.  He  called  to  Nathan  for  a  solution 
of  this  piece  of  canine  acting,  but  for  once  that  worthy  was  not  in 
n  communicative  humor.  While  still  perplexed  over  his  problem, 
Guy's  ear  caught  a  familiar  sound.  Dwarfed  by  the  distance,  the 
notes  of  a  refrain  confined  to  the  monotones  of  Indian  melody  floated 
in  upon  the  breeze,  bringing  to  his  frame  a  strange  sensation  and  to 
his  mind  a  dream-like  consciousness  of  a  portion  of  his  experience, 
wherein  he  recalled  the  stern  barbarism  and  the  weird  customs  of 
the  Lipans.  The  voice  of  the  singer  grew  more  distinct  and  the 
words  of  the  dialect  partially  clear  to  the  now  eager  listener.  The 
chant  was  now  remembered  and  the  voice  so  unmistakable  that  Guy 
mechanically  parted  the  bushes  in  his  front  and  exclaimed: 

"Nathan!  Nathan!  The  problem  is  solved.  Holla  left  me  to 
go  to  Laoni.  'Tis  she  who  is  singing,  and  she  sings  to  let  me  hear 
it  that  I  may  know  of  her  presence.  Kolla  found  her  out  first  and 
went  to  her.  Til  warrant  he  is  with  her  now." 

"That  thar  is  the  peace  chant  she's  singin' — ef  it's  her — and  long 
as  it's  her  I  reckon  they  means  it."  r 

"I  will  answer  it,"  said  Guy. 

"Blaze  away,  then/* 

Guy  waited  a  moment,  then,  in  the  rich,  clear  tones  of  his  fine  voice, 
he  took  up  the  chant,  and  for  the  few  moments  he  sang  he  was 
surprised  to  find  how  readily  the  long  unthought  of  words  returned 
to  him.  A  clear  bark  from  Rolla  indicated  that  the  dog  was  making 
himself  at  home  in  his  new  company. 

Finally,  and  against  Nathan's  advice,  Guy  determined  to  follow 
the  dog's  example  and  find  her  whose  voice  had  betrayed  to  him  her 
presence.  Taking  his  rifle,  he  stepped  lightly  into  the  open  prairie, 
and  in  another  moment  the  darkness  shut  him  out  from  Nathan's 
viow.  Let  the  same  mantle  fall  upon  the  interview,  if  one  he  had 
with  her,  who  loved  him  better  than  life,  and  who,  if  she  were  at 
hand,  was  present  to  save  him  from  threatening  danger. 

The  changed  conditions  were  soon  known  through  the  camp,  and 
••ray  dawn  found  the  men  astir  and  curious  to  know  many  things. 

W'nat  had  wrought  the  change?     Had  there  been  any  casualties? 

34 


526  GUY  EAYMOND. 

Had  any  terms  been  made  as  the  basis  of  a  truce? 

Hamilton,  having  slept  soundly  after  the  fire  \iad  swept  by, 
completely  in  the  dark,  and  endeavored  to  draw  some  light  from 
Nathan.  But  Nathan,  from,  some  late  cause,  was  dogged  and  did 
not  care* to  be  communicative. 

"How  did  Guy  know  that  they  wanted  a  truce  in  good  faith?" 
was  the  last  of  fifty  questions  he  had  propounded  to  the  rough 
diamond. 

"Oh,  he  heerd  the  gal  sing,  and  knowed  her  voice,"  replied  Nathan, 
peevishly. 

"Sing?" 

"Don't  yer  know  what  singin'  means?" 

"But  what  made  her  sing?" 

"Nobody.  Ain't  she  her  own  boss?  You  is  powerful  ignerent 
fur  a  feller  what's  ben  to  collige." 

"I  will  have  to  surrender,"  said  Hamilton,  with  a  sigh. 

"They  ain't  to  be  no  s'renderin'  on  our  side.  Nathan  Roach  don't 
s'render  to  Injuns." 

"Good-bye,  Nathe,  I  make  profound  obeisance  to  the  unfathomable 
depths  of  your  innate  stupidity." 

"That's  some  of  yer  hog  lattin,  I  reckon,"  was  the  rejoinder  that 
Nathan  sent  after  Hamilton's  retreating  form. 

CHAPTER  LXXI. 

Laoni  was  correct.  The  interview  with  her  father,  who  responded 
to  her  summons  through  Wallah,  was  a  stormy  one.  The  chief 
owned  to  her  that  the  contemplated  invitation  was  a  treacherous 
move  to  get  the  parties  in  question  into  the  power  of  the  tribe. 

Laoni's  indignation  knew  no  bounds.  She  hurled  invective  at 
the  infamous  council,  which  she  portrayed  in  the  vilest  colors,  and 
discanted  on  the  probable  prospects  of  her  people  with  the  drag  of 
such  a  contemptible  body  to  make  rules  for  them.  She  declared 
that  the  deception  should  not  be  practiced  nor  an  attack  made  upor 
the  white  men  who  were  coming.  If  her  father  had  become  too 
tirnid  to  govern  his  tribe,  she  would  take  the  authority  out  of  his 
hands.  The  council  should  be  dissolved,  for  they  were  unfit  to 
advise  the  chief,  and  would  render  more  valuable  service  by  helping 
the  squaws  to  pack  wood  and  water.  She  gave  notice  that  if  the 
life  of  El  Bravo  was  taken,  or  if  he  received  bodily  harm,  the  council 
should  answer  for  it  with  their  worthless  lives. 

Walumpta  was  amazed  at  his  daughter's  words,  but  her  man 
fairly  awed  him  and  deprived  him  of  language  foi  n-ply. 


QCli 

. 


GUY  EAYMOND.  527 

He  found  words  for  expostulation,  however,  when  Laoni  sum- 
moned Wallah,  ;iiid  directed  him  lo  c;ill  together  the  younger  warriors 
of  the  tribe,,  who  would  not  see  the  chiefs  daughter  insulted  by  a 
set  of  cowardly  old  squaw  men.  She  wanted  the  young  men,  the 
braves  of  the  Li  pans,  to  come  to  Laoni's  lodge  before  the  sun. 
Walnmpta  knew  his  daughter's  popularity  and  he  knew  that  if  she 
raised  fhe  standard  of  revolt  the  flower  of  his  people  would  flock  to 
it.  He  withdrew  to  warn  the  council  and  to  advise  a  reconsideration 
of  the  treacherous  program. 

Before  the  dawn  Laoni  was  making  her  preparations.  A  black 
mare,  the  favorite  of  her  two  horses,  was  caparisoned  ready  for  her 
to  mount,  and  the  morning  twilight  disclosed  a  goodly  number  of 
the  young  Lipans  assembled  in  front  of  her  lodge.  By  the  time  the 
sun  appeared  their  strength  was  nearly  a  hundred.  The  bow  and 
arrow  was  their  almost  universal  weapon,  a  rifle  here  and  there 
showing  itself.  Quite  as  many  braves,  mostly  older  men,  had  been 
dispatched  against  the  white  expedition,  and  the  present  response 
to  Laoni's  call  had  left  the  lodges  of  the  village  nearly  bare  of 
active  males.  With  their  adherence,  she  was  mistress,  of  the  situa- 
tion, and!  she  determined  that  the  council  should  see  it. 

Laoni's  hold  upon  the  hearts  of  the  Lipans  was  of  the  character 
that  springs  from  personal  magnetism.  Those  qualities  of  mind  and 
heart,  which,  elevated  her  above  her  environment,  had  their  effect, 
without  especial  limit,  and  variously  affected  the  elements  that  reflected 
her  peculiar  distinction.  A  majority  of  the  council  could  not  con- 
ceal their  dislike  for  the  chief's  daughter,  an  ingrained  jealousy  of 
innovation  and  a  prejudice  against  any  covenant  with  the  whites, 
causing  them  to  view  with  impatience  the  popularity  of  Laoni.  Other 
of  the  older  braves  grounded  their  opposition  in  their  aversion  to 
s<|iiaw  rule.  But  the  young  warriors  bowed  to  her  influence,  and 
had  only  admiration  and  love  for  this  princess  of  their  tribe.  Her 
fine  personality  had  much  to  do  with  the  spell  she  had  woven.  The 
summons  of  (he  flower  of  the  Lipan  youth,  by  her  messengers,  meant 
an  extraordinary  occasion  and  prepared  them  to  make  demonstrations 
of  fealty  to  her  interests  not  in  line  with  the  usual  stolidity  of  the 
Indian. 

A>  she  appeared,  dressed  in  a  handsome  costume  and  adorned 
with  the  significant  plumes  and  paint  of  the  war,  the  young  braves 
greeted  her  with  grunts  of  approval.  She  mounted  her  mare  with 
eas<3  and  grwe.  and  riding  to  the  right  and  left  through  the  crowd, 
she  surveyed  them  with  an  air  of  pride  and  satisfaction. 

All  eyes  were  centered  on  her  in  mixed  admiration  and  inquiry, 
and  at  length  when  she  began  to  speak,  her  musical  voice  attracted 


£ 

fort. 


528  GUY  RAYMOND. 

the  closest  attention.  Her  exordium  was  a  statement  of  her  prese 
grievance,  and  the  wantonness  of  the  council  in  attempting  to 
petrate  a  useless  massacre.  Her  argument  was  an  ingenious  effo 
Drawing  gradually  away  from  the  Indian  view  of  duty,  she  led  her 
auditors  through  byways,  made  fascinating  by  her  subtile  powers, 
until  they  found  themselves  willing  followers  along  the  highway  of 
her  own  exalted  altruism.  She  condemned  her  father's  weakness,  but 
scored  the  council.  Her  peroration  was  an  eloquent  appeal,  not  for 
herself,  but  for  her  people,  for  El  Bravo,  the  adopted  of  the  tribe, 
whose  blood  had  been  shed  in  their  defense,  for  a  pacific  policy 
towards  a  people  whose  numbers  were  like  the  blades  of  grass  in 
the  prairies.  She  had  been  among  this  people,  in  whom  she  had 
much  to  admire,  and  much  to  condemn.  She  spoke  of  the  secret  of 
the  mine  and  showed  how  it  could  be  utilized,  for  the  benefit  of  the 
tribe,  by  allowing  it  to  be  worked  for  a  stipulated  rental.  She 
announced  her  intention  to  go  forth  to  the  relief  of  the  coming 
expedition  alone,  if  need  be. 

At  the  conclusion  of  her  speech  there  were  signs  of  approval  on 
every  hand,  and  when  she  directed  all  in  sympathy  to  follow  her 
as  she  rode  away,  there  was  not  one  warrior  who  hesitated.  The 
party  filed  through  the  avenues  of  the  village,  subjected  to  jeers  from 
some  of  the  old  men  and  squaws  who  were  in  sympathy  with  the 
council.  On  the  other  hand,  there  were  not  wanting  expressions 
of  approval  and,  among  those  who  gave  vent  to  them,  none  were 
more  demonstrative  than  Chicha  and  the  Muja,  as  Pedro  passed 
in  the  line.  When  Laoni  concluded  that  her  demonstration  had 
produced  the  effect  she  desired,  she  gave  the  command  to  follow  the 
trail  of  the  band  which  had  left  the  night  before  in  quest  of  the 
white  men.  Two  of  the  more  experienced  trailers  were  selected  for 
guides,  and  the  party  set  out  at  a  gallop  with  Laoni  in  the  lead.  It 
was  a  long  ride  before  them,  and  night  had  veiled  the  landscape 
before  they  had  any  token  of  the  vicinity  of  the  band  they  were 
trailing  or  of  the  whites  to  whose  rescue  they  were  hastening.  It 
might  have  been  three  hours  to  midnight  when  they  saw  a  fire  some 
miles  to  the  southeast.  The  party  halted;  then,  as  the  flames  beca 
larger,  they  took  the  direction  of  the  burning  grass,  and  the  fl 
ponies  went  flying  over  the  prairie. 

To  the  Indian  girl's  quick  perception  there  were  chances  th 
the  prairie  fire  had  connection  with  her  mission.  The  distant,  glow- 
ing point  no  sooner  became  their  destination  than  her  whole  being 
was  nerved  with  the  hope  that  she  would  not  be  too  late  to  prevent 
a  collision.  Her  eyes  were  strained  across  the  dark  expanse,  prompted 


GUY  EAYMOND.  529 

by  yearnings  of  the  soul  within,  to  leap  forth  and  skim  the  visual 
line.  Her  mood  seemed  to  be  communicated  to  her  flying  animal, 
for  she  had  distanced  her  followers,  whose  yells  from  the  rear,  as 
they  urged  on  their  ponies,  came  unnoted  to  her  ears. 

The  fire  had  become  a  long,  bright  line  as  Laoni  approached,  and 
disclosed  the  motte  of  timber  in  its  foreground  encircled  by  the 
fuming  debris  with  here  and  there  little  spurts  of  flame,  as  greener 
patches  were  succumbing  to  the  devouring  element. 

A  moment  more,  and  her  mare  bounded  aside  to  avoid  a  growth 
of  scrubby  prairie  oak,  and  against  the  bright-  background  she  discried 
the  heads  and  shoulders  of  several  Indians.  At  the  instant  of  this 
discovery  she  received  a  challenge,  reined  up  her  mare,  and  for  the 
first  time  realized  that  shejiad  left  her  force  behind. 

Before  she  could  reply  to  the  challenge,  her  bridle  rein  was  seized 
and  several  forms  surrounded  her. 

"Who  among  the  Lipans  dares  to  seize  my  reins  after  he  has 
seen  that  I  am  Laoni  ?" 

"If  Laoni  comes  to  undo  the  work  of  the  council,  then  she  will 
find  Pbnseca.  has  his  orders." 

"Ha!  Ponseca!  So,  you  would  hold  me  prisoner  if  I  say  that 
here,  I  command,  awl  that  what  the  council  has  done  shall  be  undone, 
as  the  work  of  traitors  to  their  tribe  and  rebels  to  their  chief/' 

"You  command  !     A  squaw-chief  \" 

"Ponseca  will  find  out  who  will  command.  Ponseca  need  not 
put  his  ear  to  the  ground  to  hear  the  noise  of  four  hundred  hoofs. 
1  have  outridden  a  hundred  of  the  young  warriors  of  our  tribe 
who  will  obey  Laoni  for  Walumpta's  sake,  and  for  the  glory  of  the 
Lipans." 

;"Is  it  glory  to  set  brother  against  brother?" 
"The  folly  of  the  council  has  done  it.     They  have  taken  away 
alumpta's  power.     The  bold  lion  has  been  ca.ged  and  a  pack  of 
ardly  wolves  have  full  sway." 

"You  have-  come  to  help  these  white  men  who  have  already  shed 
blood  of  two  of  our  warriors?"  asked  Ponseca,  still  defiant. 
"I  will  not  waste  words,  Ponseca.     If  you  all  had  met  death  in 
is  cowardly  work,  who  could  be  blamed  but  the  council  for  sending 
u;  or  yourselves,  for  coming?" 

At  this  moment  the  followers  of  Laoni  came  up,  arriving  by 
ads,  and  she  was  soon  surrounded  by  them  and  their  panting 
ponies.  Ponseca  still  irwni  Testing  obstinacy,  Laoni  directed  that  he 
be  disarmed  and  guarded  ;m<l,  if  he  became  violent,  to  be  tied.  She 
gave  orders  that  tho  baud,  oprraling  against  the  white  men,  should 


530  GUY  EAYMOND. 

be  at  once  assembled,  and  if  any  disputed  her  authority  that  they 
be  arrested  and  guarded.     Those  around  her  gave  in  their  allegiance, 
and  from  them  she  gleaned  the  operations  of  the  day  and  night. 
The  two  casualties  on  the  Indian  side  amounted  to  no  more  th 
wounds.     She  could  not  learn  of  any  on  the  part  of  the  occupan 
of  the  motte.     Knowing  that  it  would  be  dangerous  to  approach  the 
latter  before  morning,  she  directed  the  Indians  to  seek  repose,  whi 
she,  Wallah  and  Pedro  would  watch  over  their  slumbers.     ( 

Ponseca  and  a  few  other  malcontents  were  separately  located  an 
guarded,  the  irate  ex-commander  giving  vent  to  his  spleen  by  taunt- 
ing Laoni  with  love  for  the  whites,  and  insinuating  that  she  intended 
to  spend  the  night  in  the  motte. 

When  everything  was  arranged  to  her  satisfaction,  she  bade 
Wallah  and  Pedro  to  accompany  her  on  a  tour  of  inspection.  No 
light  now,  but  that  of  the  stars.  In  the  distance  the  prairie  was  still 
burning,  but  a  look  at  its  paling  blazes  only  rendered  more  indis- 
tinct the  contemplation  of  adjacent  objects. 

The  trio  reached  a  point  opposite  the  position  in  the  motte  where 
Guy  and  Nathan  were  placed  and,  finding  the  felled  trunk  of  a 
lone  tree  which  had  been  uprooted  in  some  storm,  the  girl  seated 
herself  and  bade  her  companions  to  follow  her  example,  to  take  a 
rest,  and  use  their  ears  for  any  sounds  that  might  come  from  where 
El  Bravo  and  his  comrades  lay  in  expectancy  of  attack. 

"The  breeze  is  wrong  for  that/'  said  Pedro.     "It  is  blowing  fro 
us  to  them/' 

"It  is  so  close,  though,"  said  Wallah. 

"About  rifle  shot,"  said  Pedro. 

"If  you  talk  too  loud,"  cautioned  Laoni,  "the  breeze  will  take 
your  words  to  their  ears.  I  wish  to  hear  first  from  them,  without- 
letting  them  know  that  we  are  here.  Listen !  A  dog's  bark !  Pedro, 
that  sounded  like  Eolla." 

"It  may  be,  but  I  can't  tell  one  dog  from  another  by  his  bark 

"But  I  loved  Eolla  so." 

"Because  of  El  Bravo." 

"Well,  have  it  so.     He  was  El  Bravo's  faithful  friend." 

"What  is  this?"  exclaimed  Pedro,  as  something  rushed  by 

Laoni's  words,  uttered  immediately  after,  answered  his  inquiry : 

"Oh!     Eolla,  it  was  you.     The  breeze  took  my  scent  to  you,  a 
you  have  come  to  see  Laoni.    Oh!    Eolla!     Is  El  Bravo  well?    Is 
hurt?     Good  Eolla!     To  come  to  Laoni." 

The  dog  whined  his  replies  and  nestled  his  head  in  her  lap.  She 
caressed  him  for  a  while,  m using  on  her  proximity  to  one  she  so 
loved,  when  an  idea  struck  her. 


1C 

'; 

id 


„ 


• 


GUY  EAYMOND.  531 

"Pedro,"  she  said.  "I  will  sing  the  peace  song  which  El  Bravo 
often  made  me  sing  for  him  when  we  would  sit  above  the  falls  in 
the  evening.  He  will  hear  me,  and  know  that  if  I  am  here,  they 
will  not  he  attacked  again." 

"Sing  it  then,"  said  Pedro,  emphatically,  and  added :  "You  might 
go  where  he  is  tonight  if  you  would  go  singing  tha^.'' 

"But  I  would  not  do  that.  Did  you  hear  what  that  vile  Ponseca 
said  ?" 

"Oh  !  Ponseca !  Ponseca !  I  would  not  mind  nim.  Ponseca  is 
an  old  fool." 

Not  heeding-  what  Pedro  said  Laoni  began  to  sing.  Her  voice,  a 
little  low  at  first,  rose  as  she  proceeded,  and  sounded  strange  in  the 
stillness  and  darkness  of  the  prairie.  Rolla  whined  his  approval, 
as  the  song  doubtless  recalled  the  olden  time  when  he  chased  the 
rabbits  and  how,  after  his  fruitless  run,  the  still  familiar  voice 
had  guided  him  back  to  the  spot  where  sat  his  master  and  the 
singer. 

Suddenly  she  ceased  fro  sing.  Was  it  the  echo  of  her  words 
which  came  back?  No;  the  voice  was  rich  and  manly.  El  Bravo 
had  not  forgotten.  The  words — the  air — just  as  he  sang  them  before 
the  day  when  that  fatal  raid  determined  their  separation.  Her  head 
bent  forward  over  the  dog  which  she  caressed  tenderly,  as  these 
thoughts  filled  her  mind.  The  stoical  side  of  her  nature  gave  way, 
and  tears  fell  upon  Holla's  upturned  face.  The  girl  lapsed  into  a 
kind  of  ecstacy  as  she  bent  over  El  Bravo's  faithful  friend.  The 
thrill  which  coursed  her  being  culminated  when  a  gentle  touch  upon 
her  bowed  head  made  her  realize  that  Pedro  had  called  her  name. 
When  she  looked  up  a  smile  was  upon  her  face,  for,  by  a  mysterious 

Iescience  she  knew  that  El  Bravo  stood  before  her. 
"El  Bravo,  my  life!"  she  said,  in  the  Lipan  dialect. 
"Laoni !     Twice  my  savior !"  he  replied,  in  the  same  tongue. 
He  seated  hi  in  self  beside  her  and  drew  her  head  to  his  shoulder; 
then,  taking  from  his  pocket  a  medal,  he  suspended  it  around  her 
neck.     She  took  hold  of  it  to  see  what  it  was  and,  by  the  feeling, 
knew  that  it  was  her  parting  gift  to  him  on  the  mountain  side. 
Again  let  the   curtain  fall  upon  this  pair  who   represented,   in 
ir  fullness,  the  purity  and  goodness  of  antipodal  states  of  human 


Tt  was  a  gala  day  in  the  Indian  village  when  Laoni  made  her 
y  with  her  little  army,  escorting  the  captured   white  men;  cap- 
red    by    the   arts   of    pence   and    friendship.      They  arrived   on   the 
cond  day  after  the  rescue,  but  the  wagons  of  the  expedition  had  to 
left  across  the  hills,  as  the  valley  was   inaccessible  to   vehicles. 


532  GUY  BAYMOND. 

Couriers  had  returned  in  advance  of  the  main  body  and  announced 
the  success  of  Laoni  in  gaining  over  nearly  the  entire -fighting  force 
of  the  village.  Her  courage  and  address  were  commented  on,  and 
not  a  few,  who  violently  opposed  her  the  day  before,  were  now  ready 
to  welcome  her.  Walumpta,  who  had  been  the  puppet  of  the  council, 
felt  relieved  by  their  downfall,  but  was  not  a  .little  chagrined  that 
he  had  not  forestalled  his  daughters  act.  Laoni'-s  first  move,  when 
she  brushed  off  the  dust  of  her  short  campaign,  was  to  call  a  meeting 
of  her  adherents  and  announce  the  permanent  dissolution  of  the  old 
council,  and  to  appoint  a  new  one,  half  of  whom  were  selected  from 
the  young  men  of  the  village  and  the  other  half  from  the  middle-aged 
and  more  experienced.  Old  men  were  entirely  excluded.  The  chiefs 
power  was  declared  to  be  supreme  in  all  matters  not  purely  civil. 

When  Guy  was  preparing  his  outfit,  to  meet  the  demands  of  the 
expedition,  he  laid  in  a  large  supply  of  presents  for  the  Indians. 
These  were  brought  in  from  the  wagons  on  pack  animals  or  by 
hand,  and  distributed.  This  proof  of  his  pacific  intentions  made 
him  a  greater  favorite  and  furnished  a  strong  excuse  for  Laoni's 
revolutionary  act.  The  presents  even  won  over  members  of  the  old 
cguncil.  But  a  few  rejected  the  new  order  of  things,  and  disdained 
to  touch  the  presents  offered  to  them.  Among  the  more  pronounced 
of  these  was  Ponseca.  He  was  released  by  order  of  Laoni,  with  an 
admonition  to  reconcile  himself  to  what  had  happened.  But  Ponseca 
sulked.  He  took  himself  to  the  hills  and  brooded  over  his  disgrace. 
Guy's  quick  eye  noted  this,  and  after  failing  to  win  him  from  his 
mood,  he  warned  Laoni  that  mischief  was  in  the  Indian's  heart. 
Under  the  new  regime  the  injunction  to  keep  away  from  the  moun- 
tain became  dissolved  by  edict  of  the  chief,  ratified  by  the  council, 
and  negotiations  were  entered  upon  between  Walumpta  and  the 
members  of  the  expedition,  looking  to  the  reopening  of  the  mine  at  a 
future  day,  and  the  payment  for  the  privilege  an  annual  rental,  to 
be  determined  by  the  value  of  the  yield,  the  rent  to  be  approprial 
to  the  use  of  the  tribe. 

Within  the  week  the  objects  of  the  expedition  had  been  attainec 
and  most  of  its  members,  freed  for  the  present  from  further  cares 
in  the  matter,  joined  the  Indians  in  hunts,  or  went  about  explorii 
the  wild  country. 

Guy  passed  his  time  visiting  -old  haunts  and,  in  the  evenings,  he 
would  go  with  Laoni  to  the  falls  and  sit  upon  the  rock  where  he 
took  his  first  lessons  from  her  in  Lipan  lore  and  language.  They 
enjoyed  these  occasions;  Laoni  drinking  deeper,  pcrlmps.  from  the 
cup  of  their  happiness.  "Yd  \vilh  ihe  sweet  clniusjht  there  was  a 


GUY  RAYMOND.  533 

bitter  that  manifested  itself  in  a  melancholy  alternating  between  the 
trustful  looks  and  bright  smiles  which  she  bestowed  upon  El  Bravo. 

One  evening,  when  they  had  repaired  to  this  favorite  spot,  Guy 
mentioned  the  nearness  of  the  time  when  he  would  return  to  San 
Antonio  and  other  points  where  his  interests  called  him.  On  hearing 
this  Laoni  remained  silent  for  some  moments,  then  asked: 

"Will  El  Bravo  stay  long  in  San  Antonio?" 

"I  cannot  say,"  he  replied,  "as  it  will  depend  on  some  things 
which  may  happen  and  which  I  cannot  foresee." 

"The  humor — of  Beatrice — for  one,"  she  .-aid,  without  looking  up. 

"That  may  be  one  thing." 

Guy  uttered  this  half  reluctantly. 

"Laoni  hopes — that  she  will  make  a  good  mate  for  El  Bravo." 

"Have  you  the  medal?"  asked  Guy,  anxious  to,  change  the  subject. 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  said,  abstractedly.  "Laoni  will  wear  it  until  El 
Bravo  goes,  and  then — tben  he  will  take  it.  How  I  wronged  mv 
Bravo  when  the  medal  came  to  me  in  that  far  away  city,  and  ;i 
pretty  little  girl  claimed  it.  If  1  bad  known  that  it  was  your  sister 
it  would  have  saved  me  so  many  thoughts.  Strange — that  the  medal 
found  the  way  to  her  after  it  got  lost." 

"Strange,  indeed!  But  it  was  all  flu-  result-  of  superstition.  The 
Mexican,  captured  by  Stella's  guardian,  bought  it  from  the  monte 
pio  to  protect  him  on  his  trip,  and  poor  Mr.  Trigg  wanted  Stella 
to  wear  it  so  that  the  Virgin  Mary  would  favor  her." 

Laoni  heard,  but  her  thoughts  were  not  on  the  subject  of  the 
medal  or  of  the  Virgin.  She  turned  her  eyes  up  to  his  and  gave  him 
a  long,  earnest  look;  then  translated  it  into  language. 

"El  Bravo,  when  you  go  from  this  village  you  have  seen  Laoni 
for  the  last  time." 

"Why  so,  dear  Laoni?"  he  asked,  taking  up  the  hand  which,  in  the 
earnestness  of  her  feelings,  she  had  placed  upon  his  knee.  "You 
have  but  to  consent  and  you  can  go  with  me.  I  am  able  to  take 
care  of  you  all  your  life." 

She  shook  her  head  slowly,  her  sad  expression  yielding  not  an 
iota  at  the  generous  offer. 

"This  is  not  a  fit  place  for  you,"  he  continued.  "Why  not  come 
Avith  me?" 

"You  say — this — and  still  remember  our  meeting — when  you  called 

see  her — instead  of — of  me?" 

"But  our  relations  will  be  better  understood." 

n   if  this  would  be  true — in  her     her  case— what   about   <!>e 

•d  !      Whai    would   your  society   world   say?     I   would  be  scorned 


534  GUY  KAYMOND. 

and  you  would  be  scandalized  in  that  civilization  where  virtue 
so  rare  that  few  will  believe  it  has  any  existence.    A  liar  thinks 
no  one  tells  the  truth.     A  thief  believes  everybody  will  steal." 

Her  companion  took  a  long  breath,  but  did  not  reply. 

"El  Bravo  is  mistaken.  This  is  a  fit  place  for  Laoni.  In  yo 
civilization  I  would  not  be  respected,  without  wealth,  if  my  face  was 
fair  like  the  face  of  your  Beatrice,  but  as  it  is,  my  Lipan  blood 
would  shut  me  out  from  your  friends,  the  same  as  it  deprives  me 
of  the  love  I  would  die  for." 

"But  Laoni  has  my  love.  Loving  another  does  not  raise  the 
mountain  between  us  that  your  imagination  has  piled  up.  If  I 
love  Beatrice,  it  does  not  take  from  my  love  for  Stella — it  does  not 
lessen  my  deep  love  for  Laoni." 

"Yet  it  tears  you  from  me.  What  to  Laoni  is  this  village — these 
mountains — this  pretty  fall,  when  yon  are  gone — gone  from  her 
forever?  This  rock  is  no  more  than  the  one  further  down  the  ledge — 
only  that  here  you  have  rested  by  her  side  and  made  the  evenings 
happy.  Since  you  walked  out  from  the  flames  and  the  claws  of  the 
council  you  have  been  the  mainspring  of  my  life.  Every  move — 
every  hope — every  resolve  has  been  inspired  by  you.  The  nerve  to 
begin  and  carry  to  a  successful  end  the  fight  with  the  old  council 
was  rooted  in  my  love.  Failure  would  have  cost  me  my  life — but 
that  was  little  thought  of  when  yours  was  at  stake.  Success  has 
silenced  my  enemies,  but  it  has  not  wiped  out  the  revenge  which 
lurks  in  some  of  their  hearts.  Ponseca  will  never — 

Laoni's  words  were  cut  short  by  the  report  of  a  rifle.    Immediately 
succeeding  the  shot  she  placed  her  ha.nd  to  her  side,   and   falli 
towards  Guy  he  caught  her  in  his  arms. 

CHAPTER  LXXII. 

Of  course  Nathan's  diversion,  after  things  had  quieted  down 
the  village,  was  hunting — and  hunting  by  himself.  He  did  not 
believe  in  having  company  on  such  occasions.  He  wanted  elbow 
room  always,  and  that  was  the  reason  he  left  Arkansas.  He  believed 
a  true  frontiersman  ought  to  emigrate  when  settlers  got  to  crowd- 
ing up  within  five  or  six  miles  of  him.  The  day  that  Guy  and 
Laoni  were  having  their  affecting  interview  at  the  falls,  Nathan 
went  out  to  kill  a  buffalo.  An  all  day  tramp  around  their  watering 
plnccs  was  fruitless  in  results,  and  Nathan  was  not  in  the  best  of 
humors  when  he  crossed  the  hills,  contiguous  to  tin1  mine,  to  enter 
the  valley  from  the  northwest.  Nathan's  bad  luck  nettled  him  con- 


Lias 

7 

;elv 


GUY  RAYMOND.  535 

siderably,  but  he  finally  dismissed  the  subject  and  got  to  ruminating 
on  a  diversity  of  things.  Finally  Laoni's  half-way  promise  to  con- 
sider his  pretensions,  at  some  future  time,  occupied  his  mind.  He 
knew  how  she  loved  Guy,  but  hoped,  with  Guy's  departure,  she 
would  look  favorably  on  his  suit.  He  made  quite  a  detour  to  enter 
the  \alle\-  near  the  mountain,  for  that  route  would  bring  him  by 
the  falls  and  he  knew  she  would  he  there  talking  to  Guy.  Nathan 
\\;is  quite  philosophical  in  his  reflections  about  her  attachment  to 
another,  and  resolved  to  await  events.  He  trudged  along,  his  crude 
thoughts  keeping  no  certain  channel,  hut  swayed  from  the  purpose 
of  his  route  by  any  and  all  objects  that  met  his  quick  eye.  ITe  had 
pas-ed  the  summit  of  the  divide  which  separated  him  from  the  valley 
and  reached  the  head  of  a  gorge  running  a  zig-zag  course  down  the 
hills,  terminating  just  below  the  bold,  deep  spring,  whose  waters 
rushed  foaming  to  the  falls  a  few  hundred  yards  below.  He  stopped 
for  a  moment  to  decide  whether  to  take  the  gorge  itself  or  follow 
its  margin,  to  secure  the  better  route  to  the  edge  of  the  stream.  While 
still  undetermined  he  noticed,  way  down  the  hollow,  the  form  of  an 
Indian.  He  carried  a  rifle  and  was  following  the  bed  of  the  gorge. 
^'What's  good  fur  a  Injun  is  good  fur  me/'  he  thought,  and  at 
once  descended  to  the  rocky  bottom.  His  movement  caused  him  to 
lose  sight  of  the  Indian,  but  a  moment  later  a  turn  brought  him 
into  view.  He  had  mounted  to  a  high  point  on  the  bank  nearer  the 
village  and,  half  stooping,  was  peering  over  the  tops  of  the  young 
growth  that  lined  the  hillside.  Suddenly  he  crouched  down  and  in 
this  position  left  the  high  bank,  then  bringing  himself  erect,  he 
walked  on  towards  the  spring,  disappearing  in  one  of  the  abrupt 

turns.  *  I  •**«&  Ubnsy 

"That's  that  ar  scoundrel,  Ponseca,"  said  Nathan,  "and  he's  arter 
no  good." 

With  Nathan's  expressed  conclusion,  he  mentally  decided  to  watch 
the  had  Indian  and  determine  if  it  was  a  correct  one. 

Oh!  Nathan  Boach,  if  you  would  have  only  put  certain  facts 
together — facts  that  you  knew — and  thought  of  the  locality  in  which 
this  villain,  of  your  own  dubbing,  was  performing  in  this  stealthy 
manner,  and  then  asked  yourself  why  you  had  taken  pains  to  cross 
the  hills  near  the  falls,  you  would  have  guessed  the  crime  he  was 
bent  upon. 

When  Nathan  next  saw  the  Indian,  whom  he  had  recognized  as 
I'onseca,  he  had  gained  another  high  point  much  closer  to  the  falls, 
and  was  in  the  act  of  firing  his  rifle.  The  discharge  of  the  gun 
occurred  in  the  same  second,'  and  Ponseca  fled  across  the  gorge  and 
towards  the  mountain. 


536  GUY  EAYMOND. 


ler  his 


"That  deviPs  shot  sum  'un,"  said  Nathan,  "and  I'll  foller 
trail  fur  luck,  ef  I  is  tired." 

He  pushed  on  rapidly  now  and  took  the  fugitive's  trial  where 
he  left  the  gorge.  Here  he  found  a  dim  path  which  he  must 
necessarily  take  on  account  of  the  almost  impenetrable  character  of 
the  growth  on  either  side.  The  trailing  was  easy  here,  and  Nathan 
pushed  on  swiftly  for  a  half  mile,  when  he  found  himself  out  of 
breath  and  almost  out  of  the  thicket.  The  latter  ended  a  few  yards 
further,  and  the  backwoodsman  was  shrewd  enough  to  not  leave  it 
before  reconnoitering  the  open  space  beyond.  He  accordingly  took 
to  the  bushes  and,  on  all  fours,  crept  along  until  he  secured  a  position 
where,  unobserved,  he  could  sweep  the  opening  with  his  eyes.  He 
was  rewarded  beyond  his  expectations.  Ponseca  had  halted  in  a 
little  clump  of  mountain  oaks  near  the  rocky  wall  which  shut  in 
the  approach  to  the  mine  on  the  eastern  side.  He  was  in  the  act 
of  reloading  his  gun,  which  he  went  about  the  more  leisurely  as 
he  looked  from  time  to  time  earnestly  in  the  direction  of  the  village. 

"The  stinkin'  villain!"  said  Nathan,  between  his  teeth.  "My 
Gawd!"  he  cried  out,  as  a  thought  struck  him.  "Gawd  a-mighty! 
Ef  he  has  done  that!  But  I  won't  kill  him.  I'll  jess  break  his 
right  arm,  so  he  can't  load,  and  then  he's  my  meat.  Ef  he's  done 
that— whew!" 

Nathan  drew  a  bead  on  his  victim.  The  crack  of  his  rifle  fol- 
lowed, and  Ponsecn's  right  arm  fell ;  the  ramrod  with  which  he  was 
about  to  drive  the  bullet  home  dropping  to  the  ground.  Nathan 
reloaded  rapidly,  and  by  the  time  the  Indian  had  recovered  some- 
what from  his  astonishment  and  was  endeavoring  to  get  his  gun 
and  rammer  together,  he  was  out  of  the  bushes  and  in  a  full  run 
to  follow  up  the  advantage  he  had  gained  by  making  a  prisoner. 
Ponseca  clubbed  his  piece  with  his  solitary  hand;  then,  bethinking 
himself  of  his  knife,  he  threw  away  the  empty  gun  and  furiously 
flourished  the  other  weapon. 

Nathan  could  not  help  smiling  when  he  thought  how  soon  his 
adversary  would  have  to  surrender  his  long  knife. 

"Ole  Pawnsake,"  lie  drawled  out  in  the  vernacular,  "that  ai 
a-gwine  to  work." 

Then  in  Lipan  he  ordered  him  to  surrender  or  he  would  break 
other  arm. 

The  threat  had  no  effect.     On  the  contrary,    Ponseca   redoubl 
his  demonstrations  and  replied  defiantly. 

Nathan,  seeing  no  alternative,  shot  the  knife  from  his  hand,  dis- 
abling that  member  also,  then,  springing  on  him,  he  felled  him  \\ii- 
his  clubbed  rifle. 


GUY  "RAYMOND.  537 

To  tie  the  discomfited  Indian  was  the  work  of  the  next  few 
minutes.  This  was  done  in  the  most  artistic,  frontier  fashion,  with 

e  buckskin  strips,  a  supply  of  which  Nathan  always  carried  with 
him.  Knowing  that  he  would  have  to  drag  or  pack  his  prisoner, 
Nathan  concluded  to  leave  him  on  the  spot  until  he  could  learn 
the  extent  of  the  mischief  which  had  been  done  by  Ponseca's  shot. 

Prophetic  words !  "Ponseca  will  never "  He  will  never  for- 
get. He  did  not  forget. 

Guy  at  first  could  not  realize  the  situation.  Laoni's  subject  and 
its  sadness  had  induced  a  reverie  to  which  ,he  had  so  far  succumbed 
as  to  only  half  digest  her  meaning.  The  fullness  of  his  mind,  trying 
in  devise  some  method  to  dissipate  the  cloud  over  hers,  made  him 
nearly  oblivious  to  his  surroundings.  The  shot  did  not  sufficiently 
awaken  him  to  connect  the  discharge  with  his  companion's  move- 
ment. He  gazed  anxiously  into  her  face.  '  A  look  of  pain — then  a 
faint  smile  suffused  her  countenance.  To  his  rapid  inquiries  she 
held  up  a  hand  stained  with  blood. 

"Ponseca — did  not  forget/'  she  murmured  slowly. 

Guy's  first  idea  was  to  stop  the  flow  of  blood  until  he  could  get 
assistance.  Before  help  was  at  hand  he  had  done  all  in  his  power  to 
close  the  wound.  A  robe  was  made  into  a  stretcher  and  stalwart 
arms  bore  the  wounded  girl  to  her  lodge.  The  news  flew  like  wild- 
fire and  many  were  the  young,  fleet-footed  braves  who  were  soon 
scouring  the  hills,  seeking  the  assassin.  Some  of  these  met  Nathan 
just  crossing  the  gorge  on  his  return  from  where  he  had  left  his 
bound  prisoner.  Directing  them  where  to  find  him,  he  hastened 
wi':h  greater  speed,  now  that  he  knew  the  enormity  of  Ponseca's  crime. 

His  victim  lingered  for  a  day,  declining  to  take  the  opiates 
designed  to  relieve  her  of  pain,  for  the  reason  that  she  did  not  wish 
to  lose  consciousness.  Her  last  words  were  addressed  to  Guy : 

"It  is  better  that  it  should  be  so.  Laonr's  life  would  be  a  bother 
to  El  Bravo,  but  her  memory  will  be  easy  to  love." 

Nathan,  to  whom  she  spoke  several  kind  words  of  farewell,  wept 
like  a  child,  and  was  compelled  to  leave  the  lodge  to  suppress  his 
•  •notions.  Karnes,  Hamilton  and  Euiz  stood  in  the  background,  their 
moistened  eyes  showing  that  their  sympathies  were  touched.  Wal- 
umpta,  weighted  with  grief,  had  thrown  himself  prone  upon  the  floor. 
Pedro  and  Wallah  and  others  who  loved  the  dying  girl  stood  without, 
dejected  and  silent. 

And  Rolla — sage  dog!  He  knew  thai  some  climax  was  at  hand, 
lie  had  crept  in  while  Nathan  was  lameiilin^-  and,  with  a  whine, 
liad  placed  one  paw  upon  the  couch,  whi!<i  he  looked  from  one  tearful 
face  to  another. 


538  GUY  RAYMOND. 

The  last  act  was  nearly  played,  and  the  curtain  slowly  droppii 
whose  fall  would  end  the  role  of  its   most  inirnsimg  character, 
descended  slowly — slowly — in  cadence  with  the  failing  pulse  of  tl 
sufferer — and  when  it  touched  the  hoards :     Laoni  was  dead ! 

CHAPTER  LXXIII. 

It  was  an  evening  in  October.  The  old  Mexican  town  of 
Antonio  was  dull  and  still.  The  darkening  dusk  had  not  been 
pierced  by  a  ray  of  light  from  door  or  widow,  save  from  the  monte 
pio's  on  the  plaza  and  the  Candelario's  on  Carcel  street.  .  In  the 
latter  resort,  the  proprietress  was  still  dealing  out  chile  con  carne 
and  other  Mexican  dishes  to  the  lovers  of  good  eating,  and  on  this 
evening  she  was  serving  two  of  her  most  appreciative  patrons. 

One  was  the  monte  pio. 

The  other  was  Jose,  the  major  domo.  They  sat  vis-a-vis,  watch- 
ing the  movements  of  the  hostess  as  she  placed  their  steaming  dishes 
upon  the  table. 

Their  conversation  had  evidently  been  interrupted  by  the  appear- 
ance of  the  dishes,  for  the  monte  pio  resumed : 

"You  say  Monday  of  next  week?" 

"Yes,  amigo,  on  Monday;  and  it  makes  me  sad  to  leave  Bexar." 

"But  you  are  not  obliged  to  go.  Let  el  padre  take  care  of 
himself." 

"Impossible,  amigo.     I  belong  to  el  padre,  Ignacio.     Where 
goes,  I  must/' 

"I  was  told  that  he  was  going  to  Mexico  a  month  ago." 

"So  he  was,"  replied  Jose,  (<nut  you  see,  he  loves  the  Senoril 
Beatrice  like  his  own  child,  and  Senor  Raymond  like  his  own  soi 
and  these  two  would  have  no  one  but  el  padre,  Ignacio,  to  make  them 
husband  and  wife.    To  please  them,  he  has  waited  over  to  do  them  up. 

"Is  the  bridegroom  here?" 

"He  came  today." . 

"They  have  been  engaged  for  a  long  time.     I  wonder  they  di 
not  marry  before  this,"  said  the  monte  pio,  by  way  of  gossip. 

"There  is  a  pretty  little  story  about  it,"  said  Jose.     "I  heard 
from  el  padre,  Ignacio.     In  fact,  I  listened  at  the  door  when 
and  Senor  Raymond  were  talking." 

"Let's  have  it,  Jose.     I'm  interested." 

"You  see,"  said  the  other,  leaning  over  the  table,  "about  a  year 
ago  Senor  Raymond's  Indian  sweetheart  got  killed,  up  in  the  Lipan 
country.  You  remember,  amigo,  the  time  I  sold  you  his  pony  and 


>t  ful 


GUY  RAYMOND.  539 

out  (it;  well  that  was  the  time  he  came  first  from  the  Lipans,  where 
he  had  been  a  prisoner  and  Imd  fallen  in  love  with  the  chiefs 
daughter.  Well,  she  died  a  year  ago,  it  is  said,  in  Senor  Raymond's 
arms,  and  he  promised,  or  vowed,  or  something,  that  he  would  not 
marry  for  a  year  and  a  day." 

"What  is  the  day  for?"  interrupted  his  auditor. 
"Quien  sabe.     Maybe  some  heretic  superstition.     You  know  the 
senor  is  not  a  Catholic/7 

"Well,  go  on." 

"Where  was  I  ?  Oh,  yes.  It  has  been  a  year  and  a  day  since 
she  died — the  Lipan  girl — and  Senor  Raymond  is  here  prompt  enough, 
ready  to  take  the  beauty  of  the  Navarro  family." 

"And  he  marries?" 

"The  day  after  tomorrow." 

aid  will  live  at  the  Navarro's?" 

Tot  he.  The  senor  is  rich.  El  padre  says  he  got  a  whole  big 
pot  full  of  gold  that  some  pirate  told  him  how  to  find,  and  then 
he  owns  half  of  Texas,  I  believe — anyway  he  has  leagues  and  leagues 
of  land." 

"What  has  his  pot  of  gold,  or  land,  to  do  with  his  not  living 
with  his  father-in-law?" 

"But  he  is  going  to  the  big  gringo  city,  New  York,  for  a  time, 
and  is  going  to  send  out  people  to  buy  his  land  and  to  work  some 
mines  he  has  found  out." 

"Ruiz  has  the  mine,"  said  the  monte  pio. 

"Senor  Raymond  has  nothing  to  do  with  that  mine.  There  is 
where  he  lost  his  Lipan  sweetheart  that  he  loved  so  well,  and  he 
won't  go  back  there." 

"Ruiz  will  sink  all  Bonito's  gold  in  that  old  Spanish  mine,"  said 
the  monte  pio. 

"No;  he  is  making  it  pny.  When  he  came  here  a  month 
ago,  after  supplies,  I  asked  that  pretty  gringo — Nathan,  they  call 
him — how  it  was  doing,  and  he  told  me  they  had  struck  a  rich  vein." 

"Nathan?"  said  the  monte  pio.  "I  remember;  I  sold  him  a  new 
rifle  to  take  back." 

"Yes ;  he  does  all  the  hunting  and  scouting  for  the  mine  workers." 

At  this  moment,  to  the  surprise  of  the  two,  Guy  Raymond  entered. 

"Good  evening,"  he  said,  pleasantly. 

"I  was  just  giving  the  monte  pio  a  little  history  about  you," 
said  Jose. 

"Ah !"  said  Guy.     "I  hope  you  put  my  best  side  forward." 

"About  your  escape  from  the  Lipans,  when  you  sold  your  stuff  to 


540  GUY  RAYMOND. 

our  ami  go  here  and  had  a  balance  to  your  credit." 

"The  senor  has  a  good  one  there  now — between  us." 

"And  that  is  what  I  want  to  see  you  about,"  said  Guy. 
.   "You  can  have  it,  senor,  in  ten  minutes/' 

"That's  not  it.     In  fact,  I  am  going  to  let  you  keep  it 
while." 

"How,  senor?" 

"Well,  tomorrow  morning  I  will  call  and  fix  up  matters  with  you. 
I  want  to  leave  a  certain  amount  in  your  hands  for  Locaria  Landina. 
She  used  to  live  at  Concepcion.  She  was  kip-"1  to  my  old  guardian, 
and  nursed  him  after  the  fight  there.  She  is  i  oor  and  needy  and  I 
want  to  have  a  house  built  for  her  and  the  rost  of  the  money  kept 
at  interest  for  her,  but  in  the  morning  I  will  have  everything  in 
shape." 

"You  are  a  good  man,  senor,"  said  Jose. 

"Only  trying  to  be  just  and  grateful,  Jose." 

<cYou  will  be  leaving  soon,  senor?" 

"Yes,  for  the  Northern  States,  on  business  and  pleasure." 

"Is  Perry  in  those  states?"  asked  Jose. 

"At  college  there.  I  will  see  him  when  I  go  on.  He  will  finish 
in  seven  months  and  be  with  you  here  in  Bexar." 

"Will  you  pass  through  New  Orleans,  senor?"  asked  the  monte- 
pio.  "If  you  will,  I  would  like  you  to  take  a  small  package  to  a 
friend." 

"With  pleasure.  I  have  to  go  there  to  get  my  sister,  who  will 
go  with  us  to  the  North." 

"Jose,"  continued  Guy,  "you  remember  Hamilton?" 

"That  fine,  big  fellow?" 

"Yes." 

"I  never  could  forget  him." 

"I  saw  him  in  New  Orleans  the  other  day.  He  is  writing  an 
account  of  my  adventures.  He  has  made  a  fine  character  out  of 
his  recollection  of  you." 

"I  always  thought  I  would  be  famous,"  said  Jose.  "And  he  is 
going  to  put  it  into  a  book?" 

"Have  it  printed." 

"Santa  Maria!" 

"There  is  one  thing  I  wish  to  ask  you,  Jose;  has  Karnes 
here  lately?" 

"Have  you  not  heard,  senor?     He  never  got  well,  and  died 
the   Rrnzos  about  a  month  ago." 


GUY  KAYMOND. 


541 


"He  was  a  gallant  fellow.     Poor  Karnes." 

Two  days  later  an  ambulance  with  four  mules  attached  stood  in 
front  of  San  Fernando.  Early  mass  had  just  concluded  and  the 
congregation  had  dispersed,  save  a  small  knot  of  persons  who  stood 
within  the  grand  portal.  They  were  taking  leave  of  a  couple  who 
had  been  pronounced  husband  and  wife  by  Father  Ignacio.  The 
pair  were  escorted  to  the  ambulance,  into  which  the  gentleman 
assisted  the  lady  and  then  followed  himself.  The  driver  and  a  mozo 
took  the  outside  seat.  The  bride  looked  out  as  the  vehicle  moved 
away  and  said: 

"Now  Linda,  thftrnext  time  Manuel  comes  in  from  that  old  mine, 
keep  him  here  with-you  until  we  return.  Guy  says  we  will  be  back 
in  three  months/' 

THE  END. 


